


+2 Boldness

by Horny_Unicorny



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Explicit Warning for Ch 10, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/F, Masturbation in Ch 3, Multi, Queer Eye Parody Ch 7, Romantic Comedy, They put on a play in Ch 6, Trapped In A Closet, Vicky's definitely feeling bolder!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horny_Unicorny/pseuds/Horny_Unicorny
Summary: Vicky Schmidt is smart, creative, and fun, but she's trying to become bolder because she has a crush on a certain spicy, red demon.





	1. The First Day of Senior Year

                It was the first day of the last year of school. Vicky’s parents saw her off outside, proud of how sharp they thought she looked and how prepared she was to start her classes. Of course, she knew it didn’t exactly help her social life if anyone  _saw_  her parents take her to school. But she met up with Oz at the entrance and threw her arm around them.

                “Hey! We’re matching! Look at us, being all cute,” Vicky grinned.

                “You didn’t plan this, did you?”

                “Our style syncing up? No. Maybe my parents did. They took the look right out of a catalogue.” Vicky sighed, “I told them I shouldn’t wear blue. It makes me look like a frozen corpse.”

                “But it brings out your eyes,” Oz offered.

                “That’s what _they_  said!” Vicky grinned. “What classes do you have?”

                They showed her their schedule. “Civics first period. AP Jump Scares second.”

                “Oh, I’d never get into AP Jump Scares,” Vicky frowned. “That sounds freaking awesome. At least we both got into AP Hacking and Cyberterrorism!”

                Oz nodded, “And then there’s Math—”

                “I’ll be skipping that one, like, every day.”

                “I guess you could copy my homework. No idea how you plan to pass the tests though.”

                “Oh, I’ll pass them. I already know the material. It’s just too boring to listen to stuff I already know,” Vicky shrugged.

“Is that how you spent your summer?”

“Part of it. My parents sent me to a summer camp, but Polly crashed the camp to party a few times, so that was nice.”

“Does it make me a loser that I came back to school during the summer to watch Scott and the wolves play football?”

“Not at all. Scott’s awesome.”

“Yeah, he is, and his friends aren’t so bad. But I made the mistake of coming on a full moon. I got the hell out of there before I became Scott’s dinner. I think it would hurt him more than it would hurt me, but I don't really want anyone getting hurt.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. What other classes do we have together?”

“I also have AP Spells,” Vicky said with a proud shoulder wiggle.

                “And P.E. after lunch,” Oz said, peering at her schedule in her hands.

                “What?!” Vicky looked down at her schedule in horror. “I can’t get pelted in dodgeball right after eating!”

                “Good news is you’ll probably see Polly there. Maybe Liam too. I have P.E. first period. I guess I'll have dodgeball instead of coffee to wake me up."

                Vicky adored Polly, but she hadn’t really formed much of a relationship with Liam, despite the classes they’d shared over the years. She was pretty sure he would throw up in his mouth at the thought of her parents dressing her like a model out of a clothing catalogue. He might not even want to be on the same team as her. But if all he ever saw her in were her gym clothes, he would never know!

                “Good morning, Oz.”

                “Hi, Liam,” Oz smiled and waved as Liam walked up the steps behind them silently.

                Vicky turned stiffly and smiled, waving at him too. “Hi, Liam,” she echoed.

                Liam looked at the two of them, both wearing sweaters layered over their button up shirts, and frowned. He didn’t like that other people were dressed similarly and quickly glanced around to see if his style had suddenly become ‘trendy.’ He had, all of his life, prided himself on being a trendsetter, but as soon as the trend became mainstream, he had to go on a mission to find the next big thing before it was big. Fortunately, most people weren’t dressed like they were. He liked Oz and found the fitted button-up cardigan rolled up to their elbows to be very attractive on them. Vicky’s sweater, on the other hand, looked boxy, and... he was almost sure he had seen a 40-year old woman wearing the exact same outfit.

                “Oz,” Liam smiled, “Not many people are brave enough to wear yellow. I like your sweater.”

                Vicky knew she fucked up wearing the clothes her parents bought her. She should have stood her ground and insisted they let her wear a dress! But she was gonna own it. She might look like a frozen corpse, but some people were into that. Maybe not the right people but some people. She cleared her throat and said again, “Hi, Liam.”

                “Hello, Vicky,” Liam answered. Despite her lack of taste in clothing, which might have been the first thing he liked least about her, he did respect that she could articulate critical thought about literature in class. She had also elected to take theatre every year she attended Spooky High, so he assumed she did the same this year. She often landed lead roles, which he was sure he could steal out from under her if he cared to be the main character. But support characters needed to be given more depth and nuance to add sophistication to the plays. They were too simplistic if they were focused on one character, too elementary. “See you in theatre.”

                “I joined theatre this year,” Oz added. “Vicky talked me into it.”

                Liam felt renewed interest in the department. He wasn’t sure how well Oz could perform on stage, but he looked forward to discussing the art with them, at least. “Excellent. Let’s hope Brian chose a different elective this year.”

                Vicky felt compelled to defend Brian, but she also knew he was not a skilled actor. How could he forget his lines? He mostly just had to make noises. If Scott hadn’t already been cast as the tree, Brian probably would have had that part. Maybe they could cast him as a table or a lamp. Vicky gasped, realizing, ‘Oh, shit, I would make a really good lamp.’

                Liam understood all too well being lost in thought and accidentally expressing it on his face. He did it enough that Miri had designed a frowniness scale for him. He was curious what it was she just thought about, but he was also afraid to ask. “Bell’s about to ring,” he said and left.

                Oz nudged Vicky’s arm with their elbow. “Brian’s coming.”

                “Oh, no,” Vicky muttered. She hadn’t told Oz, but…

                “What’s wrong?”

                “Uh… we might have… done things… at summer camp.”

                “Done things?”

                “’It.’”

                Oz’s jaw dropped and their shadow pet climbed up on their shoulder to stare at her.

                “It’s not laughing at me, is it?” Vicky said, eyeing the phobia suspiciously. What fear was it exactly? The fear of public humiliation? That would make sense, like its phobia-sense was tingling as soon as Brian was mentioned. Because she felt a wave of fear wash over her. What if rumors spread around school? Someone had to have heard what happened. It’s not like they did anything to prevent the janitor at the summer camp from being able to talk after he'd barged in on them during the most awkward moment of their encounter.

                “No,” Oz assured her. “It’s not really a big deal, is it?”

                “Weeeeell… it got a little weird and someone walked in on us.”

                “Oh. Well, Liam would be the first to know about it, probably, and he didn’t say anything, so I’m sure it’ll go to your graves with you.” Oz lifted their chin in polite acknowledgement as Brian sauntered past them. “Why him though?”

                “He’s… nice…?”

                Brian was an outcast, even more so than Liam claimed himself to be. He slept through all of his classes and always managed to pass his tests. But he was quiet and would sit with Valerie whenever she let him. He might have been the only monster in school to know the coven’s names. But that’s one of the things that drew Vicky to him.

                “Since when are you into nice guys?” Oz teased. “Or have you moved on from your crush on demon boy?”

                Vicky blushed, “No, but I figured he wouldn’t be interested in a virgin anyway. Brian and me, we’re not… it’s not like that. We were both curious and horny and our interests happened to align, so it was fun. It doesn’t help that Polly got us really high. I’m never doing molly again.”

                Oz shook their head and walked inside with her to head to their first class, but they stopped to look down at their schedule again. “I’m a little surprised she didn’t get you snorting cocaine.”

               “What? I don’t give into peer pressure  _that_ easily.”

                “Hey, fuckheads! You’re blocking the fucking doorway!” Damien scoffed, “Not that I give a shit because I’m ditching anyways. But I don’t like being blocked!”

                Oz turned to look at him, surprised. “You're ditching on the first day? Won't they send a letter to your dads?”

                Vicky couldn’t believe Oz was talking to Damien so casually. Sure, they also shared classes, but most people were rightfully afraid of him, herself included. Then again, she’d never seen Oz display fear, even when the school burned down around them last year. Or when the tigers ran rampant, maiming students. Or during the myriad of chaotic and violent events that ravaged the cafeteria on a daily basis.

                Realizing she was staring at him, heart racing, Vicky moved out of his way. She wondered if he paid enough attention in class to remember her name. It was called on enough when she raised her hand in class. But she never sat next to him, had never been paired with him as his partner, and the few times she was lucky enough to be put in a group with him, he ditched class.

                “They might, but that’s part of the thrill!” Damien grinned.

                “First day is just boring syllabus stuff anyway,” Vicky shrugged. The way she saw it, if Damien ditched, he wouldn’t be so bored he’d set fire to the school again. Or worse, open a portal from hell, unleashing demons on the student body. How the hell was he not expelled yet?

                “She gets it,” Damien said and looked at Vicky, “You want to go draw dicks on the walls of the teacher’s lounge with me? We just need to procure some fresh blood. I saw some goblins out back where Polly’s gonna be throwing her party later.”

                “Sure!” Vicky answered without thinking. She’d never been invited anywhere with Damien LaVey before. She’d also never murdered a goblin and played with its blood. Actually, that didn’t sound very appealing at all.

                “Why don't you do some cocaine while you're at it?” Oz suggested. They were joking, of course, but the sarcasm wasn’t as apparent as they thought it was. Vicky glared at them with a look of betrayal.

                “Fuck you! That’s a great idea!” Damien grinned, “You should have started with that. You’re both coming with me, and we’re getting fucked up then we’re fucking everyone else up!”

                “I'm going to class,” Oz said, “And I don't have any cocaine. Have fun though.”

                “Fuck! You got me all excited for nothing?” Damien glared at them. “I hope your brain explodes, nerd!”  He thought about it. “Isn’t there some kind of ray gun that does that? I bet the slayer has one. We should steal it and use it on them.”

                “On Oz?” Vicky frowned. She didn’t exactly want to get on Damien's bad side, but she wasn’t about to turn on Oz. “Nah. Oz can get his hands on all kinds of drugs. He volunteers at a geriatric center on the weekends. And old people like getting high as fuck. Don’t burn that bridge before you cross it.”

                Damien was sold. For now. He’d beaten up Oz once in the past – because he’d heard the phrase ‘there is nothing to fear but fear itself’ and figured what better way to overcome fear than to beat the physical manifestation of fear into a whimpering pile of shadow goo?

                Well, it didn’t go quite how he’d expected it to. Oz, after all, was quiet, smaller in stature, and a bit shy. Oz didn’t fight back, but they didn’t need to. Every time Damien struck them, a feeling of fear hit him back. Knowing logically he wasn’t in any danger, Damien hit themm harder and harder. Oz might have keeled over from the physical beating, but Damien was the one that couldn’t fall asleep that night. During the beating, two of Oz’s pets had slipped up Damien’s pant leg and followed him home. They slipped inside of him through his mouth while he slept and remained inside him for weeks, tag teaming him day and night.

                During the day, Arachnaphobia plagued him, making him a subject for humiliation at school. Believe it or not, Spooky High had a _lot_ of spiders, none larger than Principal Giant Spider, whose office Damien found himself in at least twice a week. And at night, Apotemnophobia gave him nightmares that woke him up with panic attacks. Losing his teeth, losing his hands, losing his manhood. Losing body parts hadn’t ever scared him before. Hell, losing body parts could be fucking badass because then he could replace them with something even cooler. But not when you’re irrationally terrified of it.

                When Oz retaliated with their phobias, they’d expected Damien to put it together that they were the one behind them and that if he asked nicely, they could reverse the damage. And Damien did know Oz was behind it, but he was too stubborn to apologize or ask them to show mercy. So, he dealt with it and beat the ever living shit out of any monster who teased him when he jumped at the sight of a spider. And he dutifully attended all of his classes to avoid the principal’s office, but he slept through most of them.

                It was weeks before Vicky asked Oz to call them back, noticing how Damien’s mood and grades suffered from the extended abuse. So much time had passed that Oz had actually forgotten about their pets tormenting Damien. It just kind of became the new normal. But they did call them back, more for Vicky’s peace of mind than Damien’s.

                Damien didn’t bother Oz again after that, but he hated the shit out of them for reducing him to a coward. In equal parts, he respected it.

                Anyway, if Oz didn’t have the narcotic hook up, Polly sure as hell did. And he was planning to see her that evening for the big party. “Speaking of burning bridges, how flammable are you?” he asked.

                Vicky followed him down the hallway toward the back of the school, her heart racing. “Uh, well, I learned a spell for non-flammability, but I haven't tested it.” As soon as she said it, she knew what was coming next. She hadn’t exactly thought it through before speaking, but she was pretty sure if she’d said she was flammable, he’d ditch her for being lame. She knew how much he liked setting things on fire. That was the whole reason why she learned the spell. One, in case of the unlikely scenario she actually got to do something with him, and two, in the more likely scenario the gym, cafeteria, library, or entire school went up in flames due to his pranks and/or boredom.

                He grinned, “Fuck yeah, no better time than the PRESENT! Fuck the teacher’s lounge. We’re going to see if your spell works! Let’s go to the football field!”

                Vicky never thought she’d be excited about being set on fire, but… what the hell. She was confident in her spell casting abilities. She earned her place in the advanced placement class. “Okay. I bet Scott will be there with the wolves. They like to practice in the morning... and the afternoon... and at night.”

               “After we get done lighting you up like a Christmas tree, we can go show them just how badass you are,” Damien said and whistled at Amira, waving her over.

               “Amira!” Vicky beamed, so relieved not to be alone with Damien because she still didn't know what to say and she didn't want to make a complete dork of herself. “Wait-- is she the one that's gonna set me on fire or are you?”

               “Oh, she will,” he grinned.

               Amira sidled up next to Vicky and placed her hand on her shoulder as she leaned in to whisper, “Honey, there are better ways for boys to get you hot.”

               Vicky blushed profusely when Amira booped her nose, turning her face a rosy shade of pink, starting with her nose and spreading into her cheeks.

               “Are you whispering about me!?” Damien asked, annoyed.

               “No!” Vicky answered quickly, “She was just, uh, talking about classes. Theatre, right?”

               “You both joined theatre too? Fuck yes, we are going to put on some badass violent performances. With really good special effects.”

               “He means real fire,” Amira clarified.

               Vicky let out an elongated gasp, realizing a dream come true. Damien was joining her favorite class!? The funnest class ever!? The class she actually was noticeable in?!

               Amira patted her on the back, “Don’t forget to breathe, honey.”

               “I'm gonna fight you!” Vicky blurted out.

               Damien stopped and stared at her, “The fuck you just say!? You want to fight me!? While on fire!? Holy shit, that’s hot!”

               Vicky gasped again, in horror this time. ‘Oh, god,’ she thought, ‘I meant in the play. Because he’d play the big bad and I’d be the hero. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I can’t tell him that _now.’_

               Amira whispered in her ear, “You sound like you have asthma.”

               “We’re gonna need swords,” Vicky said. She’d already committed to this whole fight thing by accident, so she couldn’t back out now. That would just make her look like a coward. A coward who challenged him to a duel then realized what a fucking awful, terrible, stupid idea it was. But at least she’d trained in fencing. Granted, she’d only ever used it on stage. But if she tried fist fighting him, she’d end up picking her teeth up off the floor, she’d be ugly from being beaten to a pulp, and she wouldn’t have any dignity leftover from crying about it.

               “Damn, Vicky, I never realized you were so fucking metal,” Damien grinned.

               She tried not to swoon, and although Damien was oblivious to it, Amira could see the look on her face. Vicky just received a compliment from Damien fuckin’ LaVey. Those didn’t come easy. Obviously. She was about to be on fire and possibly stabbed. But more importantly, he _did_ know her name.

               Amira said, “You can go ahead and get the swords, Damien. Meet us at the football field.”

               “I’ll get more than swords! This going to be the most epic fucking duel that this school has ever seen!”

               Vicky waited until he was gone and looked at Amira. “He doesn't mean literally that the school is going to see it, does he?”

               “The better question is why in the 8 rings of hell did you think challenging him to a fight was a good idea!?”

               “I meant in the theatre! He's going to be the villain and I'm going to be the hero! I was thinking about how epic and sexy a battle it would be on stage! But I just blurted it out and now I can't go back on it. So, what advice can you give me, other than 'don't die'? And I mean like really specific instructions on how NOT to die.”

               Amira thought about it for a second. “Are you familiar with itching powder?”

               “Yeah, but I don’t know where we’d find Polly to get some.”

               “Well, you could fight reeeeally dirty. You’ll need to low-key bless your weapon.”

               “...I can do that. Whether I can actually hit him with it, on the other hand...”

               Amira grinned, “You don’t need to hit him hard. Just make sure it touches his skin. His flawed biology will do the rest.”

               Vicky followed Amira outside, where Scott and the wolfpack were throwing and whacking balls so they could take turns chasing them. Not just footballs but all kinds of balls. She waved at Scott and gave him a thumbs up when he caught a football and heard the sound of metal clanking together behind her. She turned around to see Damien running up behind them with a big, devilish grin on his face.

              “Uh, before we start,” she said, “Can we just lay the ground rule that it's not to the death? I'd like to not die. And my parents would be really upset if I did.”

              “Right, right, no dying. Just trying to kill each other,” Damien grinned and dumped the bag of weaponry on the ground. “Swords, dildo bat, barbed wire covered frisbee, a really big fucking hammer with a spike on it, and of course...” He picked up a spiked flail fondly, “the Morningstar!”

               Vicky look at Amira, trying to subdue her panic, and picked up a light weight sword. She looked at Damien sternly, making actual eye contact with him, and said, “No head shots. I can’t replace my brain.”

               “Everything else is fair game,” he grinned.

               Scott broke away from the pack, intrigued. “HEY, GUYS! What's going on? What's with all these shiny things?”

               Amira looked over all the weapons, thinking it a bit much, and said, “They’re about to have a duel. Why don’t you hype Damien up with a cheer?”

               Vicky was a little hurt that Amira suggested Scott hype up _Damien_ when she was the one that needed a cheerleader, but then she remembered she needed a distraction to bless her weapon. She seriously debated switching to the dildo bat, but she knew she would be slowed down by something so heavy.

               “I don’t need your cheering to beat some ass!” Damien protested.

               “ALL RIGHT!” Scott grinned with a tail wag, “TWO-FOUR-SIX-EIGHT- WHO ARE YOU GONNA MUTILATE! VIC-KY! VIC-KY! VI—Wait, that doesn’t seem nice at all.”

               While Damien’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head from Scott’s cheering, Amira slipped Vicky a vial of holy water to douse her blade with. Vicky tried to be quick about it and dumped it on the sword while muttering the blessing under her breath. She hoped for the best, seeing as how it wasn’t exactly giving off a holy glow or anything.

               Amira took a casual step away from her. Being so close while she whispered the blessing gave her a headache.

               “Okay, let me cast this anti-flammability spell,” Vicky said. Good thing she remembered all the words.

               “Hey, Scott, how about you make it even and give Vicky a cheer now?” Amira smirked.

               “LET’S GO, VIC-KY! You can do it! You just gotta put your sword into it!” He lifted her up each time he cheered, “First stab! Second stab! Deeeeeeeecapitation! AROOO!”

               Vicky giggled, feeling a little bit better about the situation, and reminded them, “No decapitation.”

               “Can we fucking get to it already? Come on, Amira! Light her up!” Damien demanded.

               “You ready, Damien!?” Amira asked, excited.

               “I just fucking said I was!” he snapped back, holding the Morningstar.

               “Vicky?” Amira asked, pointing at her.

               Vicky took a deep breath and said, “Go for it.”

               Amira double finger-gun blasted her with fire. “YeeeaaaaAAAAAH!!!”

               Vicky screamed with a wave of panic, but she was actually fine. Seeing the look of horror on Amira’s face, she laughed nervously, “I’m okay.” She held her arm out to inspect it, wondering it this was what it felt like for Damien and Amira. Comfortably toasty.

              "Whoa! That’s what you call being in heat!” Damien grinned and charged her with the Morningstar, swinging it over his head.

              “Oh, fuck!” Vicky turned and ran.

              Scott’s eyes lit up, tail wagging, “Oh, oh, they’re playing chase!”

              “WHAT THE FUCK! GET BACK HERE!”

              Vicky turned and juked him, rolling on the ground as he swung the flail at her, and ran back toward the pile of weapons. When she reached it, she picked up the spiked hammer and threw it at him. Her jaw dropped when he skillfully deflected it with the spiked ball at the end of his chain. She held her sword out in front of her, thinking about how he’d been holding the Morningstar and how she might be able to get a shot in. She had the feeling even if she did manage to hit him, she was going to have that spiky ball stuck somewhere on her body like a giant iron bur.

              Damien swung the flail at her, but she was too squirrely, spending more energy trying to avoid him than trying to hit him. He couldn’t reach her with the short amount of chain he had. “ARGH!” He spun it fast and released it, but she dodged that too. “Damn it!” He ran over to the weapons pile and grinned as he picked up the giant dildo bat. “Ever been cock smacked before!?”

              “It was ONE time and I pretend it never happened!”

              Damien laughed, “Well, I’m about to make it a hundred and one times, loser!”

              Vicky charged him this time, anticipating the first swing, but instead of swinging it at her torso, he swung it at her legs, knocking her feet out from under her so she face planted in the grass. She knew the beat down was imminent, but she rolled out of the way of a downward swing and slashed at him with the sword, cutting the top of his hand.

              “That’s just a scratch! Not good enough!” He swung the dildo bat side to side in sweeping motions, hitting her with it, finding it strangely arousing.

              “Ow! OW!” Vicky thought the only way this could get any worse was if it was put on the internet for everyone to see. She took another swing at him, but he struck the sword out of her hand with a full force swing of the bat. “Ah! Hot! HOT! STOP!” She felt her spell waning until her skin was burning, and she flailed, rolling on the ground.

              “Ah, shit, put her out!” Amira shouted.

              "Don’t mind if I do!” Damien grinned and started stomping out the flames.

              Vicky knew this would end in disaster, but she kind of thought it was worth it still. Even though it was with his boot, Damien just touched her butt. She covered her head with her hands and lay on her side, curled up.

              “Quick, Scott, pee on her!” Amira called out.

              Scott gasped, dismayed, “What? No! I can't! She doesn't belong to me! And, well, I can't just claim her without asking. Plus I'm not sure I want to own Vicky. That seems like a lot of responsibility? Vicky, do you want me to pee on you? Wait, don't answer that. I haven't decided yet and don’t want you to think if you say yes that I’m going to do it.”

              “Fuck it, I’ll pee on her!” Damien said and dropped the bat to unzip.

              Amira grabbed the weapons bag and dove on top of her, patting and smothering the flames. She knew Vicky liked him but didn’t think her first interaction with his dick should involve a golden shower.

              Vicky sat up, her hair frazzled with grass in it, her skin covered in patches of soot and blisters. She was grateful not to be have been peed on – by either of them! “Ow…”

              Damien glanced down at his hand and noticed it smoking and blistering up. “What the fuck!? Shit, that sword was blessed! I need a nurse!”

              “OH, NO!” Scott had clearly seen this before and hoisted Damien up over his shoulder to run him to the nurse's office. “WEREWOLF TO THE RESCUE! WE'RE THE FASTEST RESCUERS!”

              Vicky watched Scott run Damien toward the school with the speed of a… really fast werewolf eager to be a good boy. “He's gonna be fine, right? Also, blessing that thing totally didn't save my ass from a sick beating. It seemed like it kicked in kind of late. Unless he just didn't notice it because he was having so much fun beating me up with a giant dildo.”

              Amira helped Vicky up. “It was a pretty tiny cut. So, the fight wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, right?”

             “Uh, it was pretty bad. I mean, at least my face isn't burned. And I don't _think_ I have any broken bones. And he put the fire out on my ass. But I might need to replace my arms.” She showed her the burns on her forearms and cringed at her messed up flesh.

             “But you’re totally on his radar now. You fought him while on FIRE!”

             “Worth it,” Vicky said, smiling through the pain. “But I do hope I wasn't sending the message that I like being beat up and set on fire. I mean, some people totally would. Like Barry the masochistic swamp monster.”

             “Knowing Damien, it just means you’re fearless and bad ass. If he tries to light you on fire in the future, I’ll have a talk with him.”

             “You know Damien really well, and I see you two sitting together at lunch when you’re not with Vera. You two aren’t, I dunno, interested in each other? I mean, he loves fire, and you’re pretty much made of fire. You two could make arson and make sex at the same time.”

             “Damien and I having sex? Oh, god, no. I would burn that image from my mind if I weren’t a creature of flame already. We grew up together. He’s royalty, and, as an Ifrit, my dad is military. I look at him as more like a brother. He knows my family and I aren’t interested in overthrowing his. Maybe in a perfect world, we’d be together, but neither of us feels that way about the other. And neither of us give a shit about what’s perfect. We care more about being our authentic selves. Besides I’m more into smart, confident women who don’t have to resort to killing to get their way.”

             “Does Vera know?”

             “Well, I may have pigeonholed myself into her employ as a financial advisor, but I'm working on it.”

             “You two would be so sexy together, it's ridiculous.”

             Amira grinned, “Well, I’m hoping to get her to go to prom with me. If that fails, I know all the kinky shit Polly is into.”

             “I know Damien’s all jagged and rough around the edges, but do you think maybe he’s a little soft and gooey on the inside? Deep, deep, DEEP down.”

             Amira smirked, “Want to know a little secret?”

             Vicky’s eyes lit up, and she failed trying not to look too eager. “Yes! I'm really good at keeping secrets. I'm an unbreakable vault.” Unless threatened with violence, anyway.

             “If you can find the way to get under his hard, intense.... exterior, you’ll find he’s like a melted mallow.”

             Vicky wasn’t sure how she could chip away at him. She didn’t think kindness was his kink. She knew he was very close friends with Scott, closer than he might even admit. Everyone had a soft spot for Scott. But he wasn’t interested in dating Scott. Which was good because Scott was too precious for this world, and she could never compare to him. But she couldn’t exactly keep challenging Damien to fights. Well… she _could_ , but she’d have to get a lot better at it, and she didn’t feel like she’d be her authentic self if she did that. She wanted him to actually like her for who she was. The fight served its purpose. She got his attention. It was a happy accident.

             “I think I should go see how he’s doing in the nurse’s office.”

             “Good luck,” Amira winked.

             Vicky also needed to get her burns treated. That was a good enough reason to show up. She did feel quite a bit bolder since their fight, like she could actually string together a few words without sounding like a bumbling idiot. It wasn’t just that Damien was handsome, funny, and prone to sudden outbursts of violence that made him unapproachable. He was also fucking _royalty._ In a way, he didn’t act like it. He was nothing like Miranda. But he did lash out with a sense of entitlement or… maybe not entitlement but invulnerability. He didn’t give a shit about following the rules, and she always thought that was because he figured as the future King of Hell, he’d be making them. But also unlike Miranda, he didn’t rub his royalty in people’s faces like Miranda did. (She seemed oblivious to that fact. But wearing a crown to school is a pretty bold and unmistakable statement.)

             Vicky poked her head into the doorway and smiled at Damien when he saw her.

             “Here to finish me off? Go on and try!” he smirked.

             “You're not mad?” She walked in and scanned the shelves for the anti-burn ointment, of which they always kept a surplus.

             “Mad? That just set the fucking tone for the school year!”

             “God, I hope not,” Vicky mumbled. “I mean, I did just get my entire body beaten by a giant dildo bat,” she laughed and slathered ointment on her arms before sitting down next to him. “But it was fun. We'll have to do it again... on stage. With props.” She was trying to hint that that was what she’d meant in the first place. But Damien didn’t interpret it that way.

             “You want me to hit you with a dildo on stage instead? I didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist!”

             “Er, no! And I don't think the theatre director would allow that.” She thought about it for a second. “Actually, he never notices when we make changes to the script. We could make it really interesting. We'd just have to do it under Liam's nose because there's no way he'd let us get away with it. But it’s pretty easy to get past him. He didn’t even notice when Brian rewrote his part to make him take a dump on stage. The director asked him after the performance why he didn’t do it. In hindsight, I might’ve been able to tempt him to do it. I mean, that’s something he’d find artistic. I don't think Liam would actually degrade himself to do it. But he’d _think_ about it.”

             “Oh, man, I can’t wait to mess with Liam!” Damien grinned. “Can you imagine Hamlet but with a really big fucking dildo!? Holy shit.”

             Ms. Dhirest, a mummy nurse, came out of her office to check in on Damien. “Oh, Vicky, what are you doing in here on the first day of school? Are those burns?”

             “Uh, yeah, but I already put the cream on, so I'm fine.”

             "Let me wrap those for you. You wouldn’t want to get an infection.”

             Vicky stuck her arms out for Nurse Dhirest to skillfully wrap her up. No one wraps better than Mummy.

             “Well, seems like I’m not smoking anymore and the swelling’s gone down, so I’m outta here,” Damien said and stood up to leave.

             “See ya!”

 

 


	2. The Cafeteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien is bored, but Vicky has been preparing for this moment!

                Vicky decided to drop out of her math class during the first week of school, mostly because none of her friends were in it with her but also because she’d done enough studying during summer camp that she could test out of it and get full credit for the course. She decided to take her chances and join Necromancy 302.

                She had lucked out with her original schedule, coincidentally avoiding the troll and ghoul that liked to pick on her when they passed her in the halls. She wasn’t sure why they targeted her—maybe just because she didn’t fight back and she wasn’t Scott’s size so she didn’t intimidate them. They weren’t exactly scared off by Oz either, but that’s because they were smart enough not to touch them. Now that she’d switched out her classes, however, she shared a class with the bullies.  

                When the bell rang, she stepped out into the hallway and found her locker. It seemed like very few students actually used their lockers for books.

                “Hey, look!” Tony the troll pointed at Vicky. “It’s Patches!”

                Vicky sighed and rolled her eyes, “Seriously, can't you at least call me Stitches instead? It makes more sense.” She stowed her books in her locker and grabbed what she needed for the next class.

                “It's Mismatch Patch," Garret the ghoul said, "because you’re patched up body parts.”

                “Yeah,” Tony sneered, “Did they forget part of your brain when they were piecing you together?”

                “Well, a patch is used as a cover, whether it's a patch over a hole, a patch over an eye, or a patch to cover a wound,” Vicky explained. “It might make sense if the only thing grafted onto me was my skin, but you can't 'patch' entire body parts.”

                “Did they get all your body parts from NERDS?” Garret grinned.

                “MAYBE THEY DID! I guess that makes me like 13 times smarter than you.”

                “Pfft!” Garrett scoffed, “It just means people are 13 times more likely to avoid you, nerd!”

                “Or maybe! Because I have all the sexiest and cutest nerd parts, people are 13 times more likely to wanna bone me.” She knew her comebacks were going downhill, but she wasn’t going to stop.

                “Yeah, right. I’d call you a slut but that would be an upgrade!”

                “Yeah, like anyone would want to get near whatever it is they stitched between your legs,” Tony said, grimacing. He shoved Garret when he felt his elbow jab him in the ribs.

                Vicky rolled her eyes and closed her locker. “Well, when you guys want help with your homework, this nerd is unavailable.”

                Tony slammed his hand on the locker next to her. “Who says we want your help?”

                Vicky was a little startled by the loud noise but didn’t break eye contact with him. “Uh, YOU consistently at the end of every quarter when it's time for finals.”

                “That’s because studying is for nerds like you!” Tony reached for her wrist. “Maybe we should take your hand!”

                “Hey,” Brian interrupted, “Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself before I eat them.”

                Tony pulled his hand away and hissed, “The zombie.”

                “We didn’t know you two were an item,” Garret said, shrugging.

                “We're not. Doesn't mean I won't eat your fingers.”

                “Whatever. We’ll catch you later, Patches,” Tony sneered and walked away with Garrett.

                “It’s Stitches! …I mean, Vicky…” She turned to Brian and sighed, “Thanks.”

                “One of these days, you should just electrocute them.”

                “I don't really operate that way. I mean, I don't have, like, lightning fingers. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's a spell I could learn. But it would probably drain a lot of my energy. I'd have to figure out how it works, but considering electricity is like my coffee, I imagine it'd be like sucking all the caffeine out of my veins and spewing it at them. Then I’d just be tired.”

                “You're doing that thing again,” Brian said with the hint of a smile.

                “What thing?”

                “Where you ramble your stream of thought and sound really nerdy.”

                “You think that's why they pick on me? Or is it because they've got a monster crush on me?”

                “I think it's the first one,” Brian answered honestly.

                “Well, I'm not gonna stop rambling just because a couple sticky dickbags don't like it.”

               “I hope you can outrun them next time. I remember the last time they got your hand away from you,” Brian said. He was no stranger to losing body parts himself. It didn't really embarrass him because he was comfortable with his own body, but it could be inconvenient. One time Garret had bumped into him so hard he knocked his arm right out of its socket. He knew Garrett did it on purpose though, so he'd picked his arm up off the ground and beat the shit out of him with it before reattaching it. They gave him a wide berth after that. 

               “Yeah, I pretend that never happened. And, hey, I run really fast. One might even say… lightning fast. WINK.”

               "Scott is rubbing off on you in the worst way."

               “I’m pretty sure the worst way would be if he rubbed his butt on me. But since it’s Scott, I probably wouldn’t even mind.”

               Brian saw Valerie pass them in the hall. “I’ll catch you later,” he said and followed after her.

               Vicky attended her next class before heading to the cafeteria for lunch. She was looking for Scott when she heard Amira call her name in a panicked tone. She instinctively ducked and saw a flaming squash fly over her head. “Thanks for the heads up!” she called back.

               The squash landed on the table behind her where the coven were eating their lunch. “Seriously!?” Joy yelled. They always seated themselves in back, near the walls, mostly to avoid shit like this.

               Vicky took this opportunity to join Amira and Damien at their table. “Where'd you get a squash, anyway?”

              “I totally stole that shit from the kitchen because fuck squashes and their fake spaghetti,” Damien answered.

              “Ugh, those witch bitches are staring at us,” Amira frowned and scooted her chair to put Damien in the line of fire of their spells should they start.

              Damien didn’t really care. “Hey, Vicky, how in the mood are you to fuck some shit up?”

              Vicky hadn’t even started eating yet, but she couldn't turn down an invitation to do something with Damien. “I can totally fuck some shit up,” she said and smiled big, not really sure how convincing she sounded.

             “Oh, I bet… after how that troll and ghoul treated you, I’m sure you could use some aggression therapy.”

             “You saw that? I was trying to share my brain cells with them, but it wasn't working.”

             “Don’t be fucking stupid. You know what you should share with them? FIRE AND MASS MURDER.”

             “I’m not, um, an experienced…” Vicky trailed off, seeing Amira’s discouraging facial expression, “mass… murderer…” Then, she saw how unimpressed Damien looked. “Because I only make calculated murders! No one would ever know it, but I’m quite the accomplished murderess. Yup.”

             “You see? She knows exactly who and how she wants to murder as opposed to just spraying it all over like a dog at a park,” Amira smirked.

             “Did you just compare me to a dog?” Damien glowered.

             “Well, you hump legs if given the chance,” she grinned.

             “Only if I really fucking like someone! Now come up with a plan that involves fire and murder before I just light this place up and call it a day!”

             “I've got the fire covered,” Amira said, giving them a wink and a thumbs up with a small flame at the tip.

             “Give me a second,” Vicky said and picked up her notebook to flip through it. She had written down a list of ideas for if Damien ever asked her for help in causing an evacuation so they could skip school without getting a truancy. It wasn’t quite mass murder, but maybe she could tweak one of the ideas. Bombs, poison... They were too cliché.

            Hey, that’s how she could come up with a new, never-before-seen idea. What would Liam do?

            “You know those aggressive bees in the science lab?” Vicky asked, “Their venom is highly flammable. We could release the bees, use an anti-gravity spell on the cafeteria, and light it on fire.”

            “HOLY SHIT,” Damien stared at her. “You’re a fucking genius.”

            Vicky beamed, happy to get his approval, and exchanged looks with Amira when he ran off. “I'm glad I didn't fuck that up.”

            "You hit all the Damien check boxes on that suggestion.”

            Vicky slowly lifted her notebook to take notes. “…Bees?”

            “The bees alone would fuck stuff up, but flammable venom bees? He’s probably a mixture of horny, overjoyed, and bloodlusted right now. If they sting people, the people will be on fire. It’s gonna be fucking awesome.”

            Vicky scribbled _Always layer levels of chaos for maximum Damien joy levels! Fail-safe!_

            Damien went to the science lab, retrieved the entire beehive kept behind plexiglass, and ran it back to the cafeteria. “EAT BEES, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

                Vicky saw him holding the beehive over his head. “OH, NO!”

                “What about the anti-gravity spell?” Amira asked.

                As soon as Damien lobbed the beehive into the center of the cafeteria, Vicky ducked under the table and cast the anti-gravity spell so at least she did her part. But the table floated up over her head and the bees weren’t affected by the loss of gravity. She saw Damien shut the door, laughing. “Oh, that asshole! Ow, ow, OW!”

                “Gotta say… this plan sounded better on paper,” Amira said, swatting bees away from her. “But I guess on the bright side, this isn't gonna hurt me.” She set the bees on fire.

               “WHY DID YOU GO THROUGH WITH IT! DAMIEN ISN'T EVEN HERE!” Vicky shouted, her voice nearly drowned out by the screams of her classmates being stung and burned.

               “Why the fuck not? It looks pretty cool. Like being in the middle of a firework.”

               “IT HURTS!”

               “That’s just weakness leaving the body!”

               Vicky swam through the air toward the exit as the people around her panicked, trying and failing to take cover in the air, but just as she was about to reach the door, gravity was restored (by the coven, of course), and she fell to the floor. She pushed the door open and crawled out, covered in bee stings that still sizzled.

               Damien was laughing his ass off to the point Vicky was pretty sure she saw tears in the corners of his eyes. She always kind of figured if he cried, his tears just evaporated. “That was fucking awesome!” he grinned. “Good call on the bees!”

               “Yeah... except for the part where I was locked inside with them,” she said and opened her hand, releasing a bee that landed on his nose.

               "AHHH! SON OF A BITCH!” He backhanded the bee and stomped on it, holding his stung nose. He bent down and grabbed Vicky by the back of her sweater and lifted her up. She covered her face with her hands, expecting a punch, but he scoffed. “You’ve got guts! You should’ve saved that bee for those assholes who bully you!”

               Vicky lowered her hands, relieved he wasn’t mad. “I’m pretty sure it would have stung me before I found them. And I figured since I got so much _fun_ out of it, I should share it with you.”

               “I think you may be setting a record for sending me to the nurse’s office in a single semester. Who knew you were so fucking brutal!”

               Vicky grinned, “Race you there!”

               He glared at her as she started off without him, but he wasn’t just gonna stand there and let her win. 


	3. Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make Polly happy, Vicky comes up with a modified (read: FUN) version of dodgeball, which Brian is really good at.

                As Vicky changed into her gym clothes in the locker room with Polly, she wondered aloud, “How have we not, like, won some kind of dodgeball championship yet? We play four out of five days a week.”

                “I know, right? Maybe it’s because we just show up and nobody really cares.”

                “I dunno, we’ve got some really competitive players.”

                “Not on our team, we don’t. Liam is always the first one out. I’m never out because I can make the balls go right through me. It’s SO BORING I COULD DIE.” Polly sulked dramatically against her locker. “Let’s go find Liam and figure out how to make it more interesting.”

                They left the locker room together and found Liam seated at the bottom of the bleachers beside Brian. Polly pouted, sat down next to Liam, and rested her head on his shoulder. “What can we do to make dodgeball fun?”

                Liam sighed, “Ugh, dodgeball. We would have to change the game entirely, but Coach is obsessed with dodgeball. If it were up to me, we would make the ball dodge us. That’s never been done before, and it would be a statement about how everyone wants to have fun, and they pursue it aggressively, but few ever attain it.”

                Polly lifted her head, thinking about it, “So, what, like, I possess the ball and play keep away? But then I’m still dodging and then I have a physical form so I’d actually feel people hitting me!”

                “Technically, you would be hitting other people,” Brian said, having been close enough to eavesdrop.

                “What if instead of the rubber ball Coach gave us, we get one of Scott’s soccer balls and fill it up with cocaine and poke holes in it,” Vicky suggested.

                “OH MY GOD, so whenever it hits you, you get a cloud of coke in your face? That sounds AMAZING. Can we call it COKEBALL?” Polly beamed excitedly. “O-M-G, and if I am possessing the coke ball, I’d be hiiiigh as fuuuuck!”

                “You do realize you’d have to share your coke with other players?” Brian asked.

                Vicky elbowed him in the ribs for sabotaging her suggestion.

                Polly frowned, “NOOOOOO. That means I’d start out high as fuck and lose coke over time, decreasing my high drastically. How do we do this without sharing my coke?”

                Liam raised an eyebrow, “Um… if you want to possess cocaine, can’t you just do it without the ball?”

                “BUT THEN IT’S NOT A GAME, LIAM! I HAVE TO ATTEND P.E. BEFORE THE BIG PARTY OR I’LL GET DETENTION AND MISS IT.”

                “What if instead of dodgeball, we play PARTYBALL?” Vicky suggested. “We use the coke ball, blast some music, dance while we play, and every time someone gets hit, they remove a piece of clothing?”

                 “That sounds like it could end in an orgy,” Brian said.

                 “YAASS!” Polly beamed, “Only the best games do! We should tell Vera about it and see if there's some way to sell this. PLAY, RECORD, PROFIT! And whoever is the last person standing gets possessed by ME!”

                 “How long do you think it will take coach to put a stop to it?” Brian asked, watching Coach as he gave one of his students a pep talk.

                 “The fact that everyone will be sweaty should be enough to appease him,” Liam said. He would have shrugged if he cared enough to expend the energy to.

                 Brian grunted, “How do you plan to get the soccer ball away from Scott?”

                “Easy! Be right back!” Polly phased out and went to Scott's locker, which was always left unlocked, 'borrowed' his soccer ball, and started filling it with cocaine.

                With Polly gone, it was quiet. “Um, so…” Vicky tried to break the silence.

                “You're trying really hard to please her,” Liam said.

                “Who doesn't want to see Polly happy? Besides, you look pretty bored too.”

                “Polly is a walking disco ball that can bring fun to any room,” Brian said, “Providing she doesn’t kill you as you try to keep up.”

                "Brian, you're surprisingly good at dodge ball. Aren't you worried about Polly possessing you?” Vicky asked.

                “A little. There’s no telling what she would do in my body.”

                In unison, Liam and Vicky said, “Drugs.”

                “I can think of worse things.”

                “I'm gonna let a ball hit me and just dance,” Vicky said.

                “You’ve become a lot bolder this school year,” Brian noticed. Especially since summer camp. He couldn’t help wondering if he had any part in her change. (He had.)

                “Better now than never!” 

                Brian saw a soccer ball flying toward him from the corner of his eye and caught it, so a puff of cocaine was sent upward.

                “YAS! It works! You’re welcome, by the way, Brian.” Polly called out to Coach, “WE’RE READY TO PARTY!”

                “She means PLAY!” Vicky shouted.

                “That’s the spirit!” Coach grinned, “Teams! Get into formation!”

                Brian stood up and gently tossed the ball to Liam. It bounced off his chest and rolled on the floor back toward Brian’s feet, leaving a thin layer of cocaine on Liam’s face and shirt.

                Liam coughed, “Seriously?”

                “Now you don’t even have to get up.” Brian picked the ball up and lobbed it at another player as Polly phased out to pump the gym full of music. People were so distracted by the music that most of them stopped trying to dodge the ball. Whenever they threw it back towards him, Brian caught it and pegged another person. Polly forgot to tell the rest of their classmates what the new ‘rules’ for the game were, but it’s like they already knew, because they were all getting high, dancing, and at least some of them were taking their clothes off.

                “THIS IS THE MOST LIT GAME OF PARTYBALL EVERRR!” Polly cheered.

                Brian caught the ball before it hit Polly.

                “BRIAN!” Polly glared at him, offended. “How dare you deny me that powdery goodness!” She dove into him as revenge and looked down at his body. “Ooh, wow, I feel super fucking strong.” She jumped in front of the ball to get hit, inhaling the cloud of cocaine. “OHHH YEAHHHH!”

                Vicky laughed, “You know the rules!”

                “You bet I do!” Polly removed Brian’s gym shorts and looked down at Brian’s dick. “O-M-G, you guys, Brian has a REALLY NICE DICK!” She gyrated her hips to make it helicopter.

                Liam blushed, “Um… wow.”

                “Holy shit, Polly!” Vicky gawked. She’d seen it before, but she never thought she would see Brian like this.

                “I'm not Polly, I'm Brian, and I have a nice dick!”

                Vicky looked at Liam. “Do you think he's aware of what's happening? Like, is he watching this but unable to stop it?”

                “Ah, yes, the constant struggle of every monster is to be limited by their fleshy prison. He's stuck on the inside looking out from a dark place where no one can see him, watching as the party rages on without him.”

                “Watching as his dick dances from some aggressive hip gyrations.”

                “Brian doesn't seem to be the shy type though. I question whether he still has that part of his brain.”

                “He's still got most of the smart parts, but I think he's lacking some of the emotional bits,” Vicky answered quietly.

                “It's not as if he's snacked on his own brain, though.”

                “I dunno, maybe he did,” Vicky said. “I've never really seen him eat. Maybe he picks his nose and pulls out the brainy bits.”

                “Um... yeah, I don't think it works that way. He'd have to use some kind of tool, not just his finger.”

                “So, if he had, like, a pocket knife? Because I know I've seen him carry one of those.”

                “Interesting. Perhaps I'll follow him around and see,” Liam said.

                Polly noticed they stopped paying attention to Brian and moved to stand right in front of them, hip thrusting to the beat of the music. “What’s so important you two have stopped looking at my dick!?”

                “YOUR dick?” Vicky said, reminding Polly it wasn't actually hers.

                “What if their spirits are melding together to make one Polly-Brian?” Liam suggested.

                “How can we exorcise Polly out of him so she's not trapped in his body?”

                “But should we? One might consider the Polly-Brian meld quite the avant garde performance art. Two spirits struggling for dominance, trapped in constant motion, gyrating until they're so exhausted, neither one can leave the body, leaving the body a... zombie.”

                "He's already a zombie. Oh my god, Liam, seriously, what should we do.”

                “Us? Let it play out. She'll get bored eventually. I mean, gym class is over in twenty minutes.”

                “True.”

                Polly gasped, “I just had an idea. Or maybe Brian did. I'm not really sure anymore, but I'll be in the locker room! DON'T COME LOOKING FOR ME, BITCHES! Unless, of course, like you wanna have sex, then I guess I'm down?”

               “Uhhhh.” 

               Polly-Brian ran, half streaking, to the locker room and sat down on a bench, giggling to themself. Brian’s idea was to sexorcise her from his body, a proposal she totally accepted. She’d never done mind sex before, but paired with masturbation… (Was it masturbation? I mean, it was his hand and his dick, but her control over it, so…? Whatever.)  It was awesome.

              Afterwards, she popped out of his body and grinned, winking, “Well, that was new. And I LOVE new.”

              Brian stood up. “Next time you want to do something like that you just have to ask.” He looked around. “Are we in the girls’ locker room?”

              Polly winked, “I'll keep that in mind! Next time you come up with some kinky sex adventure, do a seance, and I'm THERE!”

              “I’ll remember that. Does that work better than a cell phone...? Do ghosts have cell phones?”

              “Of course I have a cell phone! How do you think I take all my selfies?” She gasped, horrified, “OH MY GOD, you don’t even follow my Instagram!”

             “I’m not big on taking pictures or social media. But, uh, I can join and follow you if you want.”

             "What are you, like, an old man? Of course you should follow me! And send me a dick pic while you're at it. Time to master that art form. Later!” She phased out before he could answer.

             The bell rang as Brian looked down and around. “Where are my shorts?”


	4. Outdoors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interdimensional prince appears just in time for the impromptu dance party!

                Vicky had just finished P.E. and was on her way to Necromancy 302 when she stopped at her locker in the hallway. She had this feeling of dread as Tony and Garrett approached her. Were they going to class or were they going to take this opportunity to mess with her first?

                “Hey, Mismatch-Patch. Why do you always come to your locker when we’re here?” Tony asked, distracting her as Garrett removed a taser from his backpack.

                “I’m in the same class with you two. And I don't like carrying my books everywhere.”

                “Poor you. Maybe you need something to help pick you up,” Tony grinned as Garrett shocked her with the taser and laughed.

                Taken completely by surprise, Vicky went rigid, her muscles contracting from the voltage so she dropped all her books on the floor. When the current of electricity stopped, she trembled with a moan. She was a little woozy and jittery but flooded with endorphins. She punched her locker, sending a static shock through anyone touching the adjacent lockers, and cheered, “WOOO!” She abandoned her books and ran down the hallway, throwing her sweater off over her head. “POLLY! PARTY TIME!”

                Polly materialized in her path. “Did somebody say my name and PARTY!?”

                “YES! I need to DANCE!”

                Damien didn’t see that coming, but he was intrigued by the effects electricity had on her.

                Confused by that very sensual sounding moan, Tony exchanged looks with Garret. He was pretty sure her knees went weak. “Dude… did that just happen? What. The. Fuck.”

                “Did I just... make her...? What base is that, dude?”

                “That was funny as fuck,” Damien grinned devilishly, grabbing the taser out of Garret’s hand. He jabbed Tony in the kidney with it and squeezed the trigger to shock him. “Your toy is my toy now.” He turned to look for Garret but he was already running to class. “Ah, you fucking coward, you left your friend behind!?” He looked down at Tony, “It’s almost like he wants me to shock you again so you're lying in a pool of your own piss.”

                Scott ran up behind Damien and picked him up, interrupting his assault. “PAR-TY TIME! PAR-TY TIME!”

                “Wha!? HEY! Put me down! My legs work fine!”

                Polly looked back at Vicky and grinned, “Did you drop some molly? You look really high… and you’re sweating a lot.” She turned the sound up so music started blasting and reverberating through the ‘Spooky Club Tree’ as she liked to call it. “I hope you brought enough for me!”

                “So hot,” Vicky said and opened her shirt, popping all the buttons off so she could shed it quickly.

                “You’re getting naked already? It’s just us out here right now!” 

                Vicky giggled and started swaying drunkenly in an attempt to dance as she also tried to remove her pants, hopping on one leg to get them off where they were stuck on her shoe. “Ugh, shoes! Fuck shoes!”

                “AND CLOTHES!” Polly cheered.

                “YEAH!” Vicky danced with Polly in her underwear, unaware of anyone else joining the ‘party’ around them as random classmates were drawn to the music and the flashing rainbow lights. She was comfortable with Polly and if there was anyone she wanted at her lonely, high af dance party, it was her!

                “YASSS, GIRL!” Polly followed her example and stripped down to her underwear with her. “I like your bra! Did you get it from Victoria’s Séance?”

                “Yeah! I wear it in case of emergencies!” Vicky grinned. Sexy emergencies.

                Damien caught up to them outside, blown away that they were both down to their underwear. Well, okay, Polly he’d seen near naked before, but Vicky? He was surprised. And the way she laughed as she danced so freely was… kind of cute. He cracked a smile, his eyes moving to her hips swaying. When she turned, he saw what a nice booty she had.

                “Oh, my!” Scott gasped and covered Damien’s eyes. “I think they’re doing a mating ritual!”

                “Hey, knock it off! I want to see this shit!” Damien said and pushed his hands down.

                Suddenly, an interdimensional portal opened up at the base of the tree, and the Interdimensional Prince stepped out of it to look around. He immediately noticed Polly and Vicky nearby in their underwear, completely lost in the music… and each other. He needed to intervene and be the one they were lost in!

                “Oh my!” he cooed, “I think I have come to this dimension just in time to find my wife or wives. Your dancing sings to my very soul.”

                “Oh, no, this creep again,” Polly scowled. “He tricked me into trying his interdimensional cocaine once. It was weak AF. I phased the fuck out of there.”

                Vicky was letting loose, feeling the music, and she wasn’t going to let him interrupt her. “We’re not dancing for you, dude!”

                Offended, the prince gasped, “Our cocaine is the finest in 10 dimensions! We only use the best slaves!”

                “I bet Miranda would disagree with you on that one!” Vicky retorted.

                “Mm, yes, this Miranda. I have met her, but she matters not when there is you right here before me,” he said and shimmied up to her. “For YOU are doing the mating dance of my people.”

                “Oh, really? What if I do this instead?” Vicky asked and did the butter churn. “I'm churning butter. What are you churning?”

                “Ooh, yes, I like this!” The interdimensional prince mimicked her dance, “This is the interdimensional love between us, mixing into one.”

                “You can't just copy me! That's not impressive at all! Show me what you got, Mr. Fancy Pants!” Vicky transitioned to doing the shopping cart. “I'm getting my groceries. My dance groceries.”

                The prince started throttling around like he was riding a horse. “I am upon my noble steed. Here to rescue you from this dreadful life of having to shop for yourself.”

                “Better, getting better! I can dig it!” Vicky grinned and did the chicken wing. “Can you keep up with THIS?”

                The prince raised a hand over his head, forming a swan neck and bill as he strutted around. “I present to you the majestic duck swan. The symbol of my kingdom.”

                “YEAH, PRINCE! GET IT!” Vicky cheered and did the sprinkler.

                “I see you are doing the dance of the peasant sprinkler. I will show you royalty,” the prince said and extended an arm out to his side before twirling his hand and holding it palm up. He followed suit with the other and began to twirl in a circle, wiggling his fingers like a circular sprinkler.

                “This got really fucking weird fast,” Damien said, watching.

                “I was right! He said it’s the mating ritual of his people! Vicky is gonna get married!” Scott cheered with a tail wag.

                “What?! No, she’s not!” Damien glared because he had a weird feeling he hadn’t experienced before. Was it… jealousy?

                “Who knew the way to Vicky’s little heart was through the art of dance?” Polly grinned. “I was hoping it was drugs. But dance is fun too!”

                Vicky took the interdimensional prince’s hand when he stopped twirling as the song came to an end and gave it a kiss. “Thank you for the dance, Your Highness. That was fun. But I’m not marrying you or even taking a weekend getaway into your dimension. You are not red and spicy enough for me. But you’ve got moves!”

                “Alas! My love has been rejected, but it shall not die! I depart... for now,” the prince said and opened a portal. “Adieu!” He stepped through while blowing a kiss.

                Red and spicy was pretty specific and awfully familiar to Damien. He wasn’t sure if he liked feeling the feeling he got, but it made him blush. When he saw the look on Scott’s face, he glowered indignantly. “WHAT!”

                “Damien? Are you okay? You look weirdly pale. Like… your face is turning pink? Are you sunburned?” Scott licked his cheek. “This is a werewolf cure-all! Your skin will be soft and supple like a baby’s bottom! Not that I know what those feel like. It’s just something I heard one time.”

                “What the fuck, Scott!? I don’t like you like that for you to be putting your bodily fluids on my face!”

                “Like what? You don't like me as a friend? I thought we were best friends,” Scott frowned, looking sad, kind of like a kicked puppy.

                “What!? No! That’s not what I meant! Ugh, fine. Go ahead and lick my face. I think it’s working anyway.”

                Vicky heard Damien shouting and looked back to see him standing not too far away. She turned back around toward Polly as another song came on, suddenly nervous and realizing she was in her underwear. She was plummeting from her electric high. “Should I ask him to... oh, god, no, I can't.” She quickly put her shirt and pants back on before kissing Polly on the cheek. “I'll bring you some drugs next time, Polly! Bye!”

                Scott licked Damien’s other cheek to even out the sides as Damien disappointedly watched Vicky leave. “Hey! Your color is back to normal! See, what did I tell you, bro?”

                “I’m gonna go see what’s up with Smalltopia,” Damien said. “I think I saw a hornet’s nest behind the fountain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colbie Caillat's 'Brighter Than The Sun' came on my Spotify and I pictured Vicky letting loose and dancing her heart out to it. That's what inspired this chapter!


	5. The Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky and Damien share a moment in the bathroom (so romantic, right?) and Polly hears EVERYTHING.

                  Vicky woke up at her desk when the bell rang in Necromancy 302. She had a quiz in Potions next period. When she reached down to pick up her bag, she glanced down at her hand and saw that it was hanging from her wrist by a thread – a thread that had been mangled by a pair of scissors while she slept. She quickly lifted her hand up and held it to her chest as she scanned the room for the culprit. Leaving the class, Garrett and Tony giggled to themselves.

                 “Seriously?!”

                 Using her good hand, she slung her backpack over her shoulder before holding her hand and wrist against her chest. She was lucky they didn’t get it completely off. They would have stolen it and tossed it back and forth in the hallway to keep it away from her. It happened before. 

                 She stuffed her bag in her locker and retrieved her sewing kit as the bell rang. She was moving slow without her dominant hand. She snuck off to the bathroom to sew it back on. For once, she was less than thrilled to see Damien in there. At least he seemed distracted… snorting coke off the counter above the sinks in front of the mirror. She quickly hid her hands behind her back before he looked up.

                 Damien wiped his nose and sniffed. “Hey, noob,” he grinned. “What are you hiding behind your back? Something you don’t want me to see? Like a dildo? You weren’t gonna masturbate in the bathroom, were you?”

                 “No! It’s nothing!” she answered quickly. "And that's totally unsanitary."

                 “Come on, show me!” He grabbed her arm and pulled it out in front of her. “AHH!” He was startled to see her hand dangling unnaturally from the threads on her wrist. “What the fuck!”

                 Embarrassed, Vicky felt her whole face change color and, using her good hand, held her hand against her wrist. Indignantly, she frowned, “Jerk! I came here to fix it!” She looked away, mortified by his reaction.

                 “Hey! I’m just not used to seeing mutilated arms that I didn’t mutilate myself,” he said defensively. “How’d it happen?”

                 “I fell asleep in class,” she mumbled.

                 "Your body parts fall off when you sleep? That fucking sucks.”

                “No! No, it was… a prank.”

                “You detached your hand to prank someone? That’s metal!”

                She couldn’t even pretend that was the case, she was still so shaken up. “The prank was on me,” she admitted. Not her proudest moment. “I have a quiz I’m missing because I have to sew it back on.”

                “Oh, they pranked you by cutting your strings? That’s not even very creative. I mean, maybe if they’d cut ALL your strings and rearranged your body parts so your legs were your arms and your head was under your ass. Now that would’ve been creative. Liam probably would’ve blogged the shit out of that.”

                Vicky frowned, “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

                He chuckled and did another bump of cocaine. “Seriously though, you can just sew your hand back on and it works like it did before?”

                “Yes.”

                “That’s metal as fuck. You can swap out your hands with fucking gorilla hands or… OH. MY. FUCK. GUN HANDS! I tried getting gun hands, and those motherfuckers at the gun store wouldn’t sell them to me because I’d been arrested too many times. But you probably haven’t even been arrested once yet.”

                “Gorilla hands?”

                “Fuck yeah! Then swap ‘em back out with your regular hands whenever you want. You use ‘em to punch the guy that cut your threads.”

                “I dunno, I get teased enough as it is.”

                “Grow a fucking back bone. They won’t tease you if you crush their tracheas with your gorilla hands. Think about it,” he said and noticed how she couldn’t hold her hand and sew it back on at the same time. He held her hand and pressed it against her wrist for her with one hand and reached into his jacket for a cigarette with the other. He held it with his lips and lit it with his lighter.

                She started repairing her hand, very much aware of his warm hand holding hers. “You’re such a bad influence,” she smiled.

                “Yeah, I’m the fucking worst,” he grinned and blew a puff of smoke away from her. He watched as she sewed her hand on with precision. “You’re kinda slow at this.”

                “Well, I need to make the threads tight.”

                He snorted, “You have a concentration face. It kinda looks like you’re pooping.”

                She looked up at him, turning red again. “I do not!”

                He plucked the needle out of her hand and took over, sewing her up real quick. Sure, his stitches weren’t perfectly aligned and he might have gone back to cross them where he left a gap too big so they looked like how she used to stitch herself up when she was five, but she loved it. She was pretty sure she just got a taste of that toasty marshmallow center.

                “There. Good as new,” he said and put his cigarette out on the sink. “I’m gonna go murder some classmates in dodgeball.”

                “Thanks, Damien.” She smiled as he walked away giving her the finger.

                “O-M-G,” a familiar voice trilled from the bathroom stall behind her. Polly poked her head out from over the stall. “I was totally eavesdropping. Are you and Damien banging?”

                Vicky wiggled her fingers to make sure she still had full range of motion in her hand and shook her head. “No. I wish!”

                “Well, he’s totally digging on you,” she grinned. “I hope you’re flexible.”

                Vicky blushed, “Do you really think so?”

                “Totally. He sewed your hand back on! Anyone else and he would have totally been like ‘Sucks to be you, nerd!’”

                Vicky was smitten. “Do you think he knows I like him?”

                “Probably, but you should be bold and aggressive. Grab him by the horn and tell him how you feel!”

                “What?! I can't do that!”

                “I know where to find his Tinder profile. You could swipe right!”

                “Tinder? No way. I’d never go on Tinder. Plus I think that would send him the wrong message,” she said. She didn’t just wanna hook up. She was looking for… love. “Does he use that a lot?”

                “He has a particular taste when it comes to Tinder. He won’t just stick it in anyone.”

                “What's his taste?”

                “He likes ‘em fun – AKA open to kinky shit without any strings attached. If they’re really bold and aggressive, he’s into that too. But what you’re doing seems to be working for the long game and not just his long D.”

                “I’m not his type at all. If only I could apply my creativity to sex. But I don’t have enough sex to have any kind of technique. And I’m not aggressive. I need to be more aggressive. Like I need to stand up for myself even if it means I’m gonna get my ass kicked worse!”

                “YASS! That’s the spirit, girl! Let’s go get some drugs and totally rage!”

                “How about you have all the drugs, and I'll just dance?”

                “BEST PLAN EVER! Alternate best plan ever: You shake your lady parts for a steamy stranger and practice your bold sexy techniques!”

                “Alternate alternate best plan ever! I just dance with you because you’re hot and I’m totally comfortable rubbing up on you and not a stranger!” Vicky smiled.

                “Meet you at Club CLUB tonight!? Vera and Amira are going there too! GIRLS NIIIIIGHT!”

                “I’ll see you there!”

 


	6. Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the school play!

             Two months of writing and re-writing a script, acquiring props, designing the set, and rehearsing their lines, and it was finally time for their first performance. In the dressing room, Vicky paced back and forth in her knight costume. She wore foam armor over a blue tunic and leather thigh-high boots. She was so ready. She was going to defeat the evil dark knight, save the princess, and deliver a passionate soliloquy.  


             As the theatre filled up with their classmates, she joined the rest of the cast backstage. They all looked so cute in their costumes! Miranda didn’t step too far outside her comfort zone with the princess costume. Oz was a dapper swashbuckler. Brian was a wish granting dragon without any lines (because he would forget them). Vera was an evil witch. Polly was a renaissance doctor with a beak mask. Liam was in the wrong time period -- but he does what he wants. (Vicky made sure to work time travel into the script.) Damien was a dark knight. A sexy dark knight. And Scott was a tree. A tree that never changed with the seasons. A magic tree, if you will.  


            “So, it’s time for round two between us,” Damien grinned, finding Vicky cute in her knight costume.  


            “You ready to face the famed hero of Kingdom Frankensteinia?” she grinned back at him, proudly posing with her fists on her hips.  


            “I brought the dildo bat if you want to go up against that again,” he smirked.  


            “No--! I'm using a prop weapon! You'd break it! And probably me!”  


            “Damn right I’d break you,” he grinned. “I didn’t really bring it, but you’re going to have to earn this win.”  


            “Oh, I will,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. She sniffed. “What is that smell?”  


            He was disappointed she didn’t know the smell of gasoline. “If you have to ask, you deserve to be surprised.”  


            “Did you fart? I mean, it kind of smells like gas. I would have thought demon farts would smell like sulfur.”  


            Damien scowled indignantly, “That’s so fucking racist!”  


            “Is it? Shit, I'm sorry! I mean, don't demons like to eat eggs? It's basically eating babies!”  


            “Eggs are not fertilized! Oh, I am going to kick your ass in this fight. I hope you’re ready for it.”  


            Vicky gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “That's the spirit!” She slinked away to hang out by Scott, just in case Damien was annoyed enough to give her a wedgie or something. Her magic tree friend would totally save her ass. Literally.

ACT I  


            The stage was decorated with the backdrop of a stone-walled dungeon and a giant prop cauldron.  


            Mrs. Panthera, the narrator, began, “This story begins with a feud between two families. The Kingdom of Frankensteinia and the Kingdom of Demonia were once allied. Until the romantic betrayal of the Dark King when his Dark Queen was attracted to the Light King Frank.”  


            With a flourish of her cape, Vera announced, “I am the Dark Witch! I have been summoned by his highness, Prince Arsonhole, to exact revenge on the Kingdom of Frankensteinia. The Dark King cannot wake from his coma until the spawn of the Light King is DEAD!”  


            "That’s right!” Damien rushed on stage, sword in hand. “Those Light assholes have it coming to them. Witch! Do whatever it takes to make that princess take a dirt nap!”  


            Vera cackled, “And when I kill the daughter of the Light King, how will I be rewarded, oh, Dark Prince?”  


            “With gold and maybe my magnificent cock!”  


            “That's not your—” Vera whispered, “That's not your line! STOP improvising.”  


            Mrs. Panthera quickly interjected, “And with that, the witch set off for Frankensteinia with a potion she concocted!”  


            Vera laughed, “After negotiating with the Prince for a respectable position of POWER. And gold.”  


            The curtains closed.

Act II  


            The curtains opened. The stage was decorated with the painted backdrop of a golden palace. Seated at a dining table with a paper mache candelabra was Miranda. Standing beside the table was Liam, her time-traveling food taster.  


            “Princess, tonight we have this ill presented stew,” Liam droned with disgust. “Ugh, they arranged the carrots so haphazardly. And the ratio of potatoes to vegetables to meat is horrendous. Was this out of a can? This is not a meal fit for royalty!”  


            “Oh, I do agree,” Miranda said, peering into the bowl. “There isn’t even any steam rising off of it. Have the cook punished immediately.”  


            “Erm… well,” Liam stammered, remembering his lines, “I shall taste it for you, your highness, to be sure it hasn’t been poisoned.” He broke off from the script, thinking aloud, “Though, from my back story, I should know exactly how you die and thus whether I would die from poison… Unless! Of course! My character must have a deep back story. I time travelled for personal reasons that had nothing to do with tasting food. Perhaps it was to save my parents from the great flood.”  


            “Yes, yes, that’s quite enough talking,” Miranda said. “Test the food and then if it’s not poisoned, eat the whole thing. I’m hungry.”  


Liam rolled his eyes and lifted the spoon several inches from his mouth. “Mm. It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said monotonously before using the spoon to rearrange some of the contents in the bowl to look at least slightly more appealing. “Oh, no! Why, I think I have been slain!” he said, setting the spoon in the bowl to lie down on the stage dramatically. “Poisoning the princess is so cliché… I didn’t think anyone could be so unoriginal…” And then he died.  


            Polly rushed on stage with her giant plastic needle in hand and knelt down to check his pulse. “Oh no, like, I am totally too late to save him. What evil bitch could have done this? Totally not cool!”  


            Vera cackled and entered stage right. “It was me! The witch! A curse befell you, Princess, when you were born of the affair between Light and Dark!”  


            Liam lifted his head. “Whoa, this sounds really racist. Who approved these lines?”  


            “Er... The...” Vera stammered, “The Prince of Darkness will see you dead, so his Kingdom's power can be restored!”  


            “Quickly, Doctor!” Miranda ordered, “Fetch my Royal Knight, the Hero of Frankensteinia!”  


            “Yass! She’s going to MESS YOU UP!” Polly sneered, pointing her needle at Vera as she exited stage left.  


            “Your threats do not frighten me, darling. I know magic!”  


            Vicky entered stage left and knelt beside Miranda. “Your highness, dearest Princess! I have heard the Dark Kingdom of Demonia has declared war! I shall protect you at all costs!”  


            Miranda pointed at Vera. “She tried to poison me! Off with her head!”  


            Vicky rose to her feet and drew her sword as she crossed the stage to stand opposite Vera. “I shall slay you, foul beast woman!”  


            Vera smirked and drew a potion from her bag. “You can try, peasant knight, but this potion—”  


            Vicky whacked it out of her hand so it went flying into the audience. “Your villain speech was your undoing!” She quickly stabbed her between her waist and her arm so it looked like she’d been run through.  


            Vera scowled, “I had LINES, you imbecile!”  


            “The only lines you have now are the lines of BLOOD dripping down your body from the gaping hole in your stomach where I stabbed you! FOR FRANKENSTEINIA!” Vicky cried, pulling the blade back and lifting her sword in the air triumphantly.  


            “You little bitch.” Vera sighed and fell down on stage, dead.  


            Miranda clapped her hands, nodding happily. “Well done, Sir Knight! You are my hero!”  


            Vicky wiped her blade (which was clean because there wasn’t even fake blood on it) and sheathed it on her belt before kneeling at the princess’ feet. “My dearest Princess, my sword, my life… and my HEART are yours!”  


            “Wait.” Miranda grimaced, “You don’t think I’m going to marry you, do you? You’re not a prince. You’re not an eligible suitor.”  


            Vicky whispered, “Didn’t you read the script?”  


            “My serfs read the script. They assured me it was quite riveting,” she said and waved her hand dismissively. “Fetch me the adventurer. I can’t have a conflict of interest with this quest I want to send them on.”  


            “Wait, what? They're not supposed to come in until—”  


            “SEND IN MY ADVENTURER!”  


            Vicky shot up and backed away, “Uh… yes, your highness.”  


            Oz was pushed on stage after Vicky exited the scene. “Y-yes, your highness?” They didn’t know their lines because… this wasn’t in the script.  


            “I was informed of a magic dragon. I want you to obtain a love potion from this dragon.”  


            “What shall I give him in return, your highness?”  


            “GIVE?” Miranda looked grossly offended. “I’m the princess! He gives ME things, silly. Go on, now. He’ll be honored to serve,” she smiled sweetly.  


            “Okay…”  


            The curtains closed.

Act III  


            The curtains opened. The stage’s backdrop was a hill with a blue sky. Scott was a (magic) tree. Beside Scott, Brian, in his dragon costume, sat reading a book with a fake cover that said “Dragon Stuff” on it. He also had a pile of golden plated chocolate coins beside him because, as everybody knows, dragons like shiny things.  


            Oz entered stage left and approached the dragon. “Excuse me, wise old dragon! Do you grant wishes?”  


            Brian wasn’t given any lines or really any direction, but he knew he was asked a question, so he wondered if he should answer. The improv class they had before dictated that… yes, he should.  


            “No.”  


            Oz whispered, “Your character name is wish-granting dragon.”  


            “Oh. All right. Yes.”  


            “Then, I wish for you to grant me a wish!”  


            “Done.”  


            “Oh, god, I messed up my line,” Oz muttered. “Wait. Do I get three?”  


            “Nope.”  


            Oz started sweating nervously. “Uh, well…” He looked off stage and saw Vicky pointing to Miranda as a serf brushed her hair. “Oh, right. I was sent here by the princess. So, um, that wish was mine, but you must grant the princess a wish.”  


            “I don’t have to do shit,” Brian said back. He remembered getting a D in the Improv test. Maybe he should stop talking.  


            “Then, I will fight you for it!” Oz said and drew their sword.  


            “If you kill me, you’re not getting your wish granted,” Brian said and stood up. “But sure, bring it.”  


            Oz tried to mimic how Vicky had attempted to train them with the fencing style, but Brian threw his book at their head, knocking their feather hat off and startling them.  


            “You suck,” Brian taunted. He reached down to pelt Oz with his chocolate coins and found only empty wrappers. He followed the sounds of chewing and saw Scott’s puffed up cheeks, his mouth stained brown from melted chocolate. “You ate my treasure?”  


            “Mm sowwy,” Scott mumbled. They’d just looked so good and they were put at his feet like a treat for being a good boy. He was also allergic to chocolate, so he was really hoping this scene would be over soon.  


           “HIYAH!” Oz yelled as they whacked Brian with their plastic sword.  


           Brian turned around and sighed, “All right. What’s your wish?”  


           Oz stared at him for a moment and saw the pained look on Scott’s face. He looked like he was trying not to have an accident on stage. “Make me a love potion.”  


           “I’ll have it delivered to the castle,” Brian said, thinking fast. He didn’t have the props to create a potion, and he could hear Scott’s stomach churning.  


           The curtains closed, and the audience could hear the crash of a tree costume hit the floor as Scott fled the stage.

Act IV

           The curtains opened. The stage was decorated with the interior of the Light Palace again with Miranda seated at the dining table. Beside the candelabra was a pink potion.  


           “Huzzah! My love potion has arrived! Now, I will take matters into my own hands and make peace with the Dark Prince,” Miranda smiled, pleased with herself.  


           “What?” Damien scoffed, entering stage right. “You’re trying to drug me!? How about I just kill you instead and take over your puny kingdom?”  


           Vicky ran out on stage from the left. “YOUR HIGHNESS! Don't let this spicy fiend seduce you! He is not worthy of your love! I give you mine freely and shall prove it to you by defeating him in battle!”  


           “If you want to prove you love me, servant, you will defeat him in battle and force feed him this potion. My Kingdom will have peace even if I must subjugate my enemy with LOVE!” Miranda said, twinkling her fingers.  


           "Uh, you keep saying LOVE, but I’m hearing roofie…” Vicky said, narrowing her eyes.  


           “ARE YOU MY CHAMPION OR NOT?”  


           Vicky sighed and raised her sword at Damien. “EN GARDE!”  


           Damien grinned, “I think I’ll start taking over this Kingdom right now, starting with setting all your shit on fire!” He struck a match and threw it on the gas soaked props, then drew his sword.  


           Vicky smirked, “Good thing I knew you were gonna pull that stunt!”  


           Damien scowled, “What?”  


           “Notice they’re not burning?” she grinned. Indeed, the flames remained on the surface of the stage, scenery, and props but didn’t do any damage.  


           “Fuck you! You cast that spell on the stage!?”  


           “Damn right I did, Arsonhole! IT’S IN YOUR NAME! FRANKENSTEINIA WON’T BE BURNED DOWN BY YOUR DIRTY DEMONIA DOUCHE TRICKS!” she shouted, swishing her sword at him.  


           “Yeah!? Well, I don’t need fire to fuck shit up!” he shouted back and grabbed the flaming candelabra and broke it over his leg before kicking over the cardboard backdrop.  


           From backstage, Liam could be heard gasping in horror, “MY CANDELABRA!”  


           Vicky glared at him for destroying the single prop Liam actually put the effort into creating. “Oh, now you’ve done it. Prepare to die a most epic death on stage, Prince Arsonhole!”  


           Damien swung his sword at Vicky’s head and saw her duck it and come right back, slashing at his midsection and then stabbing at him. Surprised by her sudden competency with a sword, he had to seriously deflect her rapid sequence of attacks as she backed him up. “What the hell has gotten into you!?”  


           “The power of TRUE LOVE powers the Knight of Frankensteinia!” she bellowed dramatically and smacked him on the arm and leg.  


           “HEY!” Damien turned and ran across the stage to put some space in between them and spun on his heel to smack her hard on the shoulder, cracking her foam pauldron so it broke in half and her attached armor fell off. “HA! Eat shit, Stitches!”  


           Vicky gasped, looking down at her armor on the stage floor.  


           “That’s right. Now that I’ve won, I’ll be killing the princess and taking over her lame kingdom,” he grinned, passing Vicky as he approached the dining table.  


           “You broke my armor, but you didn’t defeat ME!” Vicky shouted and let out an angry battle cry as she jumped on his back. She pulled his helmet off his head and tossed it behind her. “SURRENDER!”  


           “WHAT THE FU—NO! YOU SURRENDER!” he shouted back and spun around, reaching behind him to grab her.  


           She got a foothold on his armor and boosted herself higher up on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. “THAT’S NOT WHAT THE SCRIPT SAYS!” She grabbed his horn, pulling his head back, and bit it.  


           “YOU RABID LITTLE WEREWEASEL—” Damien reached up, grabbing a hold of her now that she was higher, and shoulder tossed her onto the table. “They’re gonna have to cancel the next performance because you’re not gonna be able to use your legs—”  


           Vicky grabbed the pink ‘love potion’ on the table and splashed him in the face with it. “HA!”  


           Damien winced and spat on the ground. “UGH! IT GOT IN MY MOUTH AND IT TASTES LIKE PISS!”  


           “I’m not gonna ask how you know what piss tastes like.”  


           “Actually,” Miranda said, “it’s kool-aid and vinegar, but I didn’t think you would actually drink it.”  


"Why would you add vinegar!? Kool-aid is already pink!"  


           The narrator took this opportunity to interject, “The love potion worked its magic, causing the prince to fall instantly in love with the next person he saw!”  


           “The hell!?” Damien groaned and glared at Vicky, “Fuck it! Come here, Stitches.” He grinned and scooped her up in his arms. “Is this what you wanted this whole time? I’ll show you how the dark side ‘loves.’”  


           “W-what!?” Miranda frowned. “What about me?! What about my kingdom!?”  


           As Damien carried Vicky off stage, the narrator continued, “And so the Dark Prince Arsonhole returned to his Kingdom Demonia with the Hero of Frankensteinia to live happily ever after, and the Princess of Frankensteinia remained alone in her castle without a champion to woo her. The end.”  


           “That-- That's not fair!” Miranda protested as the curtains closed.

           Backstage, Vicky blushed, having imagined being scooped up in Damien’s arms. And then he dumped her on the ground.  


           “You dumb fuck, why didn’t you fight me like what when you were on fire!?”  


           “OW!” Vicky stood up, rubbing her butt. “Because the weapons were real! I know you’re in AP Murder. I didn’t want you getting a head start on your extra credit.”  


           “Yeah, well, if the weapons were real tonight, you would have been the one doing the murdering.” He gave himself a closer look in the mirror. “We’re not even fucking and you left teeth marks on me!?” He ran his fingers over the bite marks on his horn and thought… it’s kind of hot.  


           “Uh, I-- I may have gotten carried away. A little bit. I can admit that,” Vicky stammered.  


           Mrs. Panthera ushered the cast back out in front of the audience, “Go take a bow! What a wonderful show! You went off script, but you still put together a cohesive storyline with phenomenal improvisation. I’m so proud of you.”  


           After the walkdown, the theatre emptied, and Liam glared at Damien, still perturbed by the final act. “What do you have against art, Damien? What did art ever do to you?”  


           “Kicking ass is an art form, and I’m a master at it,” Damien retorted, “So who’s the one with the problem now, Liam?”  


           “…That’s highly debatable!” Liam answered, flustered.  


           Oz shyly sidled up to him and suggested, “Liam, you could still instagram your broken candelabra. I'm sure you could manage to make it look artistic still.”  


           "Hmm. There's a thought. The destruction of art by the bitterly talentless drones of society that exist in the moment. It's a statement about how nothing worth keeping lasts forever. NO ONE TOUCH THE SET! THE LIGHTING IS JUST RIGHT!”  


           Vera sighed, “Now that we're going so terribly off script, I think my character should live until the end of the play. Perhaps I can betray the dark prince and force feed the princess her own potion so she gives me all of her money.”  


           “Actually, now that you mention it, Miri's addition of the love potion does offer the possibility of multiple endings,” Vicky said, considering the different options. “What would have happened if her plan worked? Or what if the Hero of Frankensteinia were to betray the princess and make her drink the potion? Not that I could ever see the hero of the Kingdom being so morally corrupt...”  


           “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Panthera smiled, “we could have a different ending to the play every night of the performance! Wonderful idea!”  


           “How about one where the dark prince gets to burn the kingdom to the ground?” Damien grinned.  


           "No. Next?”  


           “What!? Think about the twist! In the end, evil triumphs over whatever it is Frankensteinia is!”  


           “AWESOME?” Vicky suggested. Duh.  


           “Awesome at getting their asses kicked!”  


           “Funny, I don't remember that happening.”  


           Damien grinned, “Is that another challenge!? Your appetite for violence and getting your ass kicked has not bored me yet.”  


           “Rain check!” Vicky answered quickly.  


           “You got it! I’m totally going to be watching the fucking weather channel with anticipation.”  


           “Oh, crap…”


	7. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Queer Eye Parody ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience! I truly appreciate the amazing feedback I've received. It really motivated me to get these last few chapters posted!

Vicky entered the library to check her e-mail and noticed several of her classmates gathered around Polly where she was seated in front of a monitor watching a video. Liam looked most dismayed.  


“Unbelievable,” Vera muttered. “To think we could have been making money off this.”  


Liam sighed, “I always knew my favorite pastime would become popular.”  


Miranda peered over Polly’s shoulder curiously. “Is this person a nobleman, passing on advice to the peasants?”  


“No, Miri,” Liam answered. “It’s just some guy – who isn’t even well dressed himself – critiquing people’s appearances. Honestly, he’s a pot calling the kettle black.”  


“We could do this so much better,” Vera grumbled, looking down her nose at the screen. “How does he have so many hits?”  


“He’s gone viral,” Polly shrugged. “Maybe it’s because he’s on the street, delivering truth bombs, instead of going through a whole application and interview process in a studio. It’s real, get it?”  


“Clearly we need to take our power back,” Vera said. “We need to improve on the formula and create a show that will go so viral, Hexflix will want to buy it.”  


“No,” Liam protested, “We should do something entirely new and forge a small but loyal fan base.”  


“I like the other thing more,” Polly said, “the part where we sell it and get loaded.”  


“But what would you do?” Miranda asked.  


The group fell silent, and Vicky offered an idea. “Going with Vera’s idea,” she said, drawing their attention to her, “You could create a reality TV show, where instead of just critiquing someone’s appearance, you give them a head to toe makeover to bring out the worst in them.”  


Vera thought about it, “I feel like this has been done before.”  


“Sure, but not with a team where each member has a special role. You wouldn’t just change their clothes, you’d change their entire life. You have a cook to teach them how to impress in the kitchen, a fashionista to give them a new look, a hair stylist so they look fresh even without their clothes, an interior decorator to give their pad a makeover, and… a confidence coach to make them own it! Because confidence is the sexiest thing about a person, right?”  


Vera smirked, impressed. “I like it. That is an improvement on our favorite pastime. I can see the cash flow. We should call the show FEAR EYE.”  


“YAASSS!” Polly beamed, “I call interior design! I can move furniture around like a BEAST! Especially if I do some meth beforehand!”  


“Ugh, this has so much potential for becoming mainstream,” Liam muttered. “But I will teach our makeover monster how to take good instagram food pics.”  


“And I’ll provide valuable advice when the monster takes me shopping,” Vera grinned. “I could use a new purse. They say lead by example.”  


“I was thinking we could ask Damien to join us as the hair stylist,” Vicky suggested.  


Miranda cringed, “Oh, no! I can’t imagine anyone would let Damien near their head with a sharp object—”  


“That’s right,” Vera said, “I like Damien, but he would ruin the whole show. He might just set everything on fire.”  


“If anything,” Polly said, “he could do their makeup. I mean, I hate to admit, the boy is fierce with foundation.”  


Miranda smiled, batting her eyelashes, “Since I have the most luxurious hair, my serfs shall cut and style the monster’s hair per my directions.”  


“That’s fair,” Vera said.  


“Um, well,” Vicky smiled, relieved no one claimed the role she wanted for herself. “I can be the confidence-slash-positivity coach. I can give great pep talks!”  


“Um,” Vera said mockingly, “No. You’re not charming enough, for one.”  


“HARD no,” Polly echoed, much to Vicky’s disappointment. “Sorry, boo. We’ll be the THRILLING THREEVE!”  


“What!?” Vicky stared at them. Excluding her after she came up with the idea!? WHAT THE HELL!?  


“Wait,” Liam interjected. “We can still have a Fearsome Five. When you think of someone who tries to boost your confidence, who do you think of?”  


They all looked thoughtful for a moment and came to the same conclusion at the same time. “SCOTT!”  


Vicky didn’t feel quite as bad now. I mean, she still thought it was BALLS that they completely bumped her from the show SHE came up with, but Scott was definitely the best cheerleader.  


Vera rested her hand on her hip and looked down at Vicky. “Don’t look so glum, Vicky. You’re still going to be on the show.”  


“I am?”  


“I can’t think of anyone else who needs a makeover as badly as you do.”  


She knew she should have seen this coming. On the one hand, maybe she should feel insulted, but on the other hand, her parents did choose her clothes out of a catalogue and now she was going to get a makeover from Vera… if she could afford the shopping trip, anyway. She was a little nervous about telling them where she lived, but she was more anxious about her makeover being put on the internet for all to see.  


Still, she agreed to it.  


One of Miranda’s serfs was put in charge of recording – until he filmed the first scene vertically and was severely punished for it – then another took his place, following Vera’s commands to the letter.  


Vera led the pack of monsters to Vicky’s doorstep and knocked on the door. They waited an awkward length of time. “She was supposed to be ready. Who’s going to edit this, anyway?”  


“I’ll do it,” Liam answered. He would figure out a way to redeem the show. It was already damned to be mainstream. He was thinking of how he could provide his own dark narrative, revealing the seedy underbelly of Vicky’s house. He could collect silhouette interviews from classmates and look pointedly at the camera whenever Vicky said something questionable, then he would splice it all together.  


The shattering of glass distracted him from his brainstorming. Miranda ordered one of her serfs to unlock the door and let them in, but that required breaking and entering first.  


Vicky descended the stairs from her room in the attic and opened the front door as the servant climbed in through the window. “I was getting ready still!”  


“Well, you’re late,” Vera said.  


“Hey, boo,” Polly winked. “Ready for your makeover?”  


“Uh, yeah,” Vicky held the door open for them, wondering how she’d explain the broken window to her parents. “My room’s upstairs.”  
She didn’t expect all of them to file upstairs to invade her space, but they did. The serf wasn’t sure who he was supposed to record, but Vicky side-eyed the phone in her face and said, “I think you should record what they have to say. They’re the stars. I’m just the guinea pig.”  


“AWOOOOO!” Scott howled from outside. “Am I late!? Did I miss it!?”  


“Scott!” Vicky hugged him as he barreled in through the front door. “I forgot you were coming!”  


"YOU FORGOT ABOUT ME?” he gasped and gave her his pitiful puppy eyes – a face he’d learned could get him free icecream and back scratches.  


“Don’t make that face!” Vicky pleaded. “I’m just happy to see you!”  


Scott grinned and picked her up to carry her upstairs over his shoulder. As he walked into her bedroom and joined the circle of them as they looked around, Scott bellowed, “WHAT’S THE GAME PLAN?”  


“I’m taking Vicky to the mall,” Vera said, standing in front of a dresser with all its drawers pulled out and contents strewn about the floor. The closet was also emptied out in the time it took for them to come upstairs, and Vera stepped around the piles of clothing like they were dirty diapers. “Miranda’s serf will follow us to record everything.”  


“My name is Steve,” the serf whispered and quickly shut his mouth when Miranda shot him a threatening glance.  


“Oh! I’ll come too!” Scott grinned, tail wagging. It made sense to him to follow Vicky wherever she went.  


“While we’re at the mall, Liam will be raiding the kitchen, Polly will be redecorating in here, and Miranda….” Vera trailed off.  


“I’ll be waiting to make you look magnificent,” Miranda smiled, pressing her fingertips together.  


“Sounds great,” Vicky chuckled nervously.  


"Let’s get started,” Vera said and led them downstairs back to her car. She saw Scott and the serf climb into the back seat and sighed. “Scott, if you’re going to stick your head out the window, keep your mouth closed.”  


"BUT WHY?” he frowned. One of the funnest things about sticking his head out the window was feeling the air puff up his cheeks. It did always make him really thirsty though.  


“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” she said and drove them to the mall with the higher end stores she liked to shop at. She led Vicky into one of her favorite clothing stores, immediately distracted by a skin-tight leather dress on the rack.  


Vicky felt her heartrate quicken when she saw the price tag. “So, uh, maybe we should shop at the Ghoullister downstairs? And I could use a new pair of shoes.”  


“You could use a new everything,” Vera said absently and looked her up and down. “But you’re right. Starting with a pair of shoes is a good idea. If there’s only one thing you walk away with, shoes could elevate your whole look. I’m putting you in a pair of heels.”  


Vicky liked the sound of that. She sat down to try on a pair of black four-inch heels Vera set down in front of her as Scott cheered behind her.  


“1! 2! Time to buy some shoes! 3! 4! We know what we’re shopping for! 5! 6! Vicky’s getting some new kicks! 7! 8! Vera’s no cheapskate! 9! 10! Vera is the BEEESSSTTT!” Scott howled.  


Vicky stood up, teetering. “Maybe three-inch heels would be better?”  


“Girl, you look hot,” Vera smirked, crossing her arms. “Just learn to walk in them and embrace the pain.”  


Vicky had to admit… they did make her look a little bit sexy, and who was she to argue with Vera, one of the arguably hottest and longed after women in Spooky High? “All right,” she sighed. “What’s next?”  


“Next, we get rid of the mom pants and put you in a skirt.”  


“What about shorts and an oversized sweater?” Vicky asked. She thought the look was cute, but by the look of disgust on Vera’s face, she knew she should have kept it to herself.  


“Stop trying to dress yourself,” Vera said. “You’re bad at it.”  


“I only put my sweater on inside out that one time,” Vicky said defensively.  


Vera grimaced in dismay as she shifted her weight, “That is not what I meant. You have more problems than I know how to help with.” She smiled reassuringly when Vicky visibly wilted and said, “But that’s what the team is here to help with, isn’t it? So, let’s get you something… business casual. That way you’re not stepping too outside your comfort zone, but you’re still showing off your figure with a pencil skirt.”  


Scott thought really hard before asking, “Wait... how many pencils do we need to make her a pencil skirt? A hundred.... no .... a thousand!?”  


Vera sighed, “No, Scott, the skirt makes Vicky look like a pencil because it’s so tight.”  


“But... if it’s just a skirt... how is it going to make her head pointy? I think Vicky’s head is a good shape as it is, Vera, so we should avoid turning her into a pencil.”  


“Aww,” Vicky grinned and hugged Scott’s arm. “You like the shape of my head? Thanks, Scott.”  


“I need a drink,” Vera said and pulled her flask of scotch from inside her leather jacket.  


After spending a couple of hours in the dressing room while Vera hung clothes over the door for her to try on, Vicky walked out of the store with a couple of shopping bags full of new clothes and credit card debt.  


At home, Miranda impatiently awaited their return, sitting upon a throne formed by the contorted bodies of chair serfs straining to maintain their positions without moving. She looked at the door when it opened and crossed her arms. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? I had enough time to have my serfs compete in gladiatorial games to decide who would have the honor of letting me tell them to style your hair.”  


Vicky gasped, “I get to have my hair styled by gladiators!? That's so cool!”  


Miranda clapped her hands and two serfs scrambled to form a chair under Vicky as a blood covered serf approached her with his sword. “I was going to have my hair stylist serf do it for you, but I got bored, and I knew in my heart that someone who just fought for their life would be able to put even more passion into your hair.”  


“Oh, how, um… considerate. Thanks, Miri.”  


Scott cheered gleefully, “Go, go, Miranda! Your serfs are the best! They can be a chair, style hair, and stab each other in the chest! AROOOOO!” Feeling hyped up, he looked at the gladiator serf and said, “Oh, man, do you like Sportsball? You look like you’d be really good at Sportsball!”  


Miranda admonished him, “Scott, I would appreciate it if you didn’t put such ideas into his head. Deviating from the path I have set before him would count as treason.”  


Vicky noticed the serf sweating nervously (probably because he’d never cut hair before and all he had was a claymore) and whispered to him as he got closer, “Just put it up in a ponytail. Don’t hack it off.”  


The serf did as he was told and put it in a ponytail, then looked back at Miranda nervously.  


Miranda gasped, pleased, “I knew that you were worthy of this task. You will get extra bread with your cabbage soup.”  


“I love it!” Vicky grinned, acting as if she were in awe.  


Liam stood behind them, watching incredulously. “Seriously? You've never tied your hair up before?”  


“SHHH.”  


“Well, is it my turn yet? We need to hurry up before it coagulates. And the light from the window right now is perfect. If we wait any longer, you'll get light pollution -- without even adding a filter.”  


Vicky followed him, thinking about what he just said. Knowing him and how he loved his filters, she asked, “On the one hand, pollution sounds bad, but on the other hand, if there's a filter for it, aren't we just skipping a step?”  


“Are you kidding me? I would never pollute my pictures with a light pollution filter. Ugh!”  


“Right, what was I thinking?” Vicky rolled her eyes at herself and stopped beside him before a table he’d pushed up to the window. He’d created some amalgamation of ingredients from her refrigerator, but it looked like... is that mayonnaise? “What am I learning how to cook exactly?”  


“Learning to cook? That’s too cliche for this show. No. This is a commentary on the simple yet complex oily existence of yours. The mayonnaise is the center piece and really brings it all together.”  


“Ooh!” Scott peered over their shoulders, tail wagging. “Like it does in a sandwich!” He furrowed his brow, concerned, “But it’s just there and isn’t between anything. This is a really weird sandwich, Liam, and makes no sense.”  


Liam smirked, “It’s not a sandwich, Scott – that’s just it though. Everyone expects a sandwich. Vicky isn’t a sandwich, are you, Vicky?”  


"Hell no, I’m not a sandwich!” Vicky answered indignantly. “I’m more like soup. Warm and toasty with secret surprises under the surface, and if you leave me alone in the cold, I get all mushy.”  


“But toast is made out of bread!” Scott reminded her, further confused.  


Liam continued dismissively, “Scott, the bread is a metaphor. It’s short lived and stale.”  


“Hey, I can make food art too!” Vicky grinned, “I once made a portrait of my mom out of skittles for her birthday. It, uh… it was a statement about… how she comforts me after a hard day, like a rainbow after a storm.” She really hadn’t thought about it that hard at the time. She just didn’t particularly like skittles and thought it would be a fun craft project.  


“Skittles represent your mother? Very interesting choice. Is it because, like skittles, monsters are different on the outside but taste the same on the inside? How very post-modern.”  


“I feel like I’ve had a breakthrough!”  


Scott cheered, “The L is for LIKES ART! The I is for INSTAGRAM! He’s still got a heart but he acts like he doesn’t give a damn! The A is for AMAZING! The M is the for MAYONNAISE! Liam is the best at saying smart things, but if the sun comes up he’s set ABLAZE!”  


“Hm,” Liam muttered. “I’m just impressed he found a way to rhyme with mayonnaise.”  


Polly materialized next to Vicky. “Hey, Boo—”  


“ACK!” Startled, Vicky stumbled back and bumped the table Liam painstakingly set his food art upon, wobbling it just enough that a defrosted pea rolled into the mayonnaise, ruining his perfect representation of whatever the fuck. “Oops.”  


“Whoa, rude,” Polly said, offended. “I wasn’t even trying to scare you! Are you afraid of ghosts now or what?”  


“What? No! You surprised me!”  


Polly laughed, “I’m just fucking with you. Come upstairs! I finished your room!”  


Liam groaned, “It’s ruined! You ruined it! And you didn’t even get a picture of it yet!”  


Vicky winced guiltily, “I’m sorry, Liam! Did you?”  


“Well, of course I did, the lighting was just right – but the point was for you to do it.”  


“Why not just show her at lunch next week?” Polly suggested. “Come on, Vicky! Liam, you can come too – time to appreciate some interior design art at its finest.”  


"It’s just called ‘interior design’,” Liam corrected her and followed.  


When Vicky walked into the attic, her mouth dropped open at the sight of it. It almost looked like it got sucked into another dimension and vomited back out of it into the same space. The chairs she hadn’t noticed missing from the kitchen table were all stacked up on each other at awkward and seemingly impossible angles until they reached the ceiling. Aside from the chairs in the middle of her room, all the rest of her furniture was upside down – on the ceiling. “HOW?”  


Liam guessed, “You haunted her furniture?”  


“No, Liam, I did not just ‘haunt her furniture’,” Polly said with an exasperated eyeroll. She grinned proudly, holding up her phone, “I used the instageist app that instantly haunts whatever you point your phone at!”  


“Yeah, so, you haunted her furniture.”  


“I don’t think you get it, Liam. The app did it, not me!”  


Liam’s eyes widened when something caught his eye. He stared at it nestled in between all the chairs. “Is that…? The candelabra I made for theatre?”  


“Oh! Yeah, I salvaged it from the garbage after you left,” Vicky answered. She didn’t think he’d ever find out about it, but she wasn’t going to deny it.  


“Why would you keep it?” He turned to her, pushing down the flutter of feelings she’d unsettled, and gave her an accusatory glance. “Are you a hoarder? Did Polly send all your other junk to another dimension?”  


“No! It just needed a little glue… and now I have an original ‘Liam,’” Vicky said and shrugged, “You worked so hard on it. I didn’t like seeing you throw it away like that.”  


“And you… repaired it.” He stared at it, shocked. “It’s like you’ve repaired my very artistic expression!”  


“Yeah, but since she put her own spin on it, like, doesn’t this make it an original Vicky now?” Polly teased.  


"What? No!” Vicky answered quickly, hoping that wouldn’t ruin Liam’s good mood. “But if it were, I’d say it’s about how friendship can mend even the deepest wounds.”  


Liam was already arranging the lighting to take a picture of it. “It all makes so much sense! The level of your artistry is high enough that I believe even you could appreciate the deep meaning of yaoi.”  


Vicky withheld a squeal of delight because Liam just presented her to the perfect opportunity to segue into talking about Oz. “By the way, Liam, you know Oz?”  


“Of course I know Oz. You were standing right next to them when I said hi to them the other day.”  


“Right, yeah, well, they're pretty cool, you know? Did you know they're the manifestation of fear itself? They're a living abstract concept. Pretty badass, right? And kinda sexy?”  


Liam realized he’d completely overlooked that about Oz. Sure, he liked their understated sense of fashion and their low-key presence in the classroom, but the fact that they were fear itself? “I was looking for the perfect undiscovered abstract subject and they were standing right in front of me every morning!”  


Wait, what? Eh, no matter.  


“You should sit with us at lunch more. You'll get to see what it's like when Fear smiles. They don’t smile for just anybody!”  


Polly pouted, “What gives, guys? No fair hogging all the time in MY segment. Shoo!”  


Liam frowned, “Don’t ‘shoo’ me.”  


Reminded it was Polly’s turn in the spotlight, Scott cheered, “Want to move your furniture but you haven’t got a clue?! I have the perfect monster for you! Up high, down low! Polly is the ghost who knows! Yay, Polly, YAAAY, POLLY!” He held his hand up for a high five from her.  


Polly slapped his hand and lamented, “Aw, man, Scott, you shoulda been here! We could’ve rigged something up like an imploding closet prank.”  


Vicky said, “That sounds like it would suck. Wouldn’t all the stuff I just bought disappear?”  


“That’s what makes it so funny!”  


“I think you’re thinking too big, Polly. You know what a good prank would be? A blueberry in my cereal. Just a stray blueberry. It’d confuse the hell out of me! I’d be like, ‘where’d that blueberry come from?’”  


Scott agreed, “That is a good idea! Blueberries don’t just appear out of nowhere!”  


Polly didn’t like that prank, it needed some tweaking. “What if we replace the blueberry with acid tabs in your cereal? You would be way more confused than if you had a blueberry in there.”  


“On second thought, let’s not mess with my food ever,” Vicky answered and looked up at the ceiling. “So, how am I supposed to sleep in my bed if it’s on the ceiling?”  


“Have you thought about becoming a ghost? Because it would totally be easy if you were a ghost.”  


“You know I like my flesh prison, Polly. Maybe you could just put the bed back on the floor?”  


She heaved a dramatic sigh, “Fine, I will un-haunt your furniture after our show does the revisit in the second season.”  


Vera came up the stairs and looked around. “Well, I think that’s a wrap. Let’s get this edited and posted online so it goes viral. Then I’ll get in touch with all the big networks.”  


Vicky wasn’t sure how her parents were going to react to the complete mess they’ve made of her room and the kitchen, but she was going to wear one of her new outfits to school the next day. “Thanks for coming over, you guys. I had a lot of fun.”  


As they were leaving, Scott asked, “It’s already over? But we didn’t add a room to remove her fleas in!”  


“Scott, Vicky’s not a werewolf and doesn’t need a flea grooming room,” Liam reminded him.  


The next day at school, Vicky wore the clothes she’d chosen for herself and snuck to the register while Vera was on her phone. She wore a pair of yellow shorts, a loose-fitting blue shirt that hung off one shoulder, and pair of black ballet flats. She didn’t usually wear short shorts because they revealed so many of the stitches that ran up and across her thighs, but she also knew she had nice legs. She kept her thick wavy hair up in a high pony tail and went to class with renewed confidence. She felt pretty good about herself. And she couldn’t wait to tell Oz how hard she’d wingmanned for them.  


When she went to the library before lunch, she found Damien seated at a computer and sat down next to him, hoping he’d look at her a little differently – less like the nerd he knew she was and a little more like the cuter, bolder version of herself she felt like. But his reaction wasn’t quite what she’d expected.  


“What the HELL, Vicky?! You guys all got together to make a TV show and didn’t even invite me?”  


She tilted her head, noticing how he glared at the computer screen where the edited video played. “It really wasn’t up to me,” she started. “I tried to tell them to put you in charge of the hairdressing, but Miranda—”  


“WHAT?!” Damien turned in his seat, shocked, and wondered how the hell she knew he could cut hair. Had she seen him making over that corpse in the bathroom last year? What else did she know? Or did she see his browser history on the library computer? He was pretty sure he’d skipped class to watch RuPaul Drag Race before. He narrowed his eyes at her in what only could look like a pissed off glare, even if he was just trying to piece together how the fuck she could know that much about him. “Fuck you, why would you think I could cut your hair but not do any of that other shit? I can cook! And lifting heavy shit is easy—"  


“I just figured you’d know your way around a pair of scissors because they’re basically like two knives stuck together,” Vicky answered.  


Damien backed off, realizing by the doe-eyed look Vicky gave him that she really didn’t know about his secret hobbies. “I’m still mega-pissed that I was left out. I could’ve done any of those jobs. They didn’t even incorporate fire in any way.”  


“You know, Polina did say you’re ‘fierce with foundation.’ Could you do my make up?”  


“She said I was fierce? Fierce is badass and I’ll fucking take it,” Damien said, weighing the proposal in his mind. “All right, I’ll do your make up.”  


“I just happen to have my makeup bag with me if you're not too busy right now,” Vicky said, holding it up for him. Was it all a part of her plan? Maybe.  


“I’ve got the time, and I know where we can go.” He erased his browser history from the PC and led her to the Human Romance section of the library. “No one comes here unless they’re looking to make out.”  


Vicky felt her whole face heat up and hoped maybe he’d want to make out. “So, you’re saying Polly might pop in.”  


“She might. Did you want to make out with her? Say her name two more times and you’ll summon her.”  


“N-no. I’d rather finish my make over,” she said and handed him her makeup bag. Really, she just wanted to spend some time alone with him in the secret makeout stacks.  


Damien looked her over, noticing she was showing more leg today. “That’s not the outfit Vera picked out for you on the show.”  


“Do you like it?” Vicky asked hopefully.  


“You’ve got really sexy legs, but you hide them under those slacks all the time. This is a good look on you.” Yes. He liked it. He sat on the floor with her and opened her make up bag to go through her brushes and palates. “I like your hair up like that too.”  


“Really? I was always a little self-conscious about my bolts.”  


“What the fuck for? They’re fucking metal. Literally too. They’re one of your most badass features.”  


Vicky just about fell over when he called her sexy. Not to mention the vindication she got from that affirmation – Vera was wrong about her not knowing how to dress herself! She leaned forward and closed her eyes for Damien to apply her eyeliner and eyeshadow, on cloud 9 all the while. She hoped maybe after applying her lipstick, he might want to take some away with a kiss.


	8. The Classroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Potions class, Damien, Vicky, Oz, and Miranda learn how to make a Truth serum.

In Potions 301, Professor Faust announced to the class, “Settle down, students. Damien, put your nipples away.”  


“I was just showing off my new cultist nipple rings. This shit is important!”  


“More important than knowing the absolute truth from someone when they want to lie?”  


Damien pulled his shirt down, intrigued. “I’m listening.”  


“Good. Then listen well. Today we are going to learn all about the Truth Curse.”  


Miranda turned her nose up at the professor, “But I have an excellent torturer who can find that sort of thing out for me.”  


“Hearing what you want to hear isn’t always the truth.”  


Miranda gasped, “As a member of the royal family, what I want is divine, so what I want to hear has got to be the truth!”  


Oz hesitated, “We’re… not going to have to practice on each other, are we?”  


Professor Faust answered, “I enjoy having a job, and anyone else teaching this class would probably get it wrong. We don’t want another situation like 1876’s Diarrhea Curse.”  


“First of all, is there a curse to make someone spontaneously combust? Second, how the fuck are we supposed to learn without getting hands on!?” Damien growled.  


Professor Faust answered, “By paying attention and reading your books. You are here to understand these curses and when to properly use them.” He rolled a TV stand forward and popped in an old VHS tape. “We are now going to view this human documentary of someone under a truth spell. While you all will be learning the potion form, it has the same effect as a spell. One difference being the potion expires after 30 minutes.” He pressed play on the film 1997’s Liar Liar.  


“Thirty minutes is enough time to torture some answers out of somebody,” Damien said.  


“Do you really need the torture though if you have a truth serum?” Vicky asked.  


“The truth serum just means I get to have fun and walk away with the right answers.”  


Miranda cringed, “Egads! You do it yourself? Like a peasant? Can’t you afford servants to do it for you?”  


Damien scoffed, “No peasant could truly appreciate what a hot poker is capable of!”  


Professor Faust said, “You really should take A.P. Dungeon Torture, Damien.”  


“WHOA, there’s a FUCKING DUNGEON TORTURE CLASS?!”  


“No,” Professor Faust answered, watching Damien sink back into his seat with utter disappointment. “Now separate into groups of four for group study.”  


“Cock tease,” Damien grumbled. He would have aced the shit out of that class.  


Miranda was not going to stand up. She was going to let the group come to her. She sat straight in her seat, looking regal, thinking surely her classmates would flock to her.  


Vicky went over to Oz and whispered, “Should we go sit with Miranda? I’m not sure anyone wants to partner with her since she never does any of the work.”  


“I guess. You don’t want to try sitting by Damien?”  


“I’ll invite him over.”  


“You sure it’s a good idea to sit with two royals? One who sleeps through classes and one who daydreams about unicorns?”  


“We don’t even need group work to make this potion. But we need group work to make friends,” Vicky winked.  


Oz stood up from their desk and followed her over to Miranda’s desk. “Can we join you?” they asked.  


Vicky looked over at Damien at the back of the class, saw a couple of nearby students turning their desks to face his, and gave him a little wave anyway. When he saw her inviting him over, he abandoned the classmates that formed a group around him and walked over.  


“Haven’t had enough of me yet, noob?”  


“Nope!" Vicky grinned back. "Will you join our group?”  


“Yeah, sure. It seems whenever I’m around you some crazy shit happens, and I’m in a crazy shit kind of mood.”  


“When aren’t you in a crazy shit mood?” Oz asked. “When you’re sleeping through class?”  


“No, I still dream about crazy shit, and you’re lucky you’re immune to physical harm or I’d show you just how crazy shit mooded I am!” Damien retorted.  


Miranda said, “Oh, Damien, you should get one of your demon soldiers or whatever you have serving you to put your enemies on spikes for you.”  


Oz raised an eyebrow. “Miranda… did you just suggest he put me on a spike?”  


“Oh, don’t be silly, Oz. You’re not his enemy. You’re all of our friend! I was speaking in general,” she said with a sweet smile.  


“I could still put you on a spike if you’re into that,” Damien shrugged.  


“Context is everything,” Oz mumbled.  


“There will be no spiking,” Vicky said and opened her textbook. “We need to learn this curse.”  


Damien smirked, having just been given the idea to spike her drink with truth serum. “I promise not to put you on my spike.”  


That sounded both violent and sensual, and Vicky wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.  


Miranda clapped her hands so a couple of serfs came running from where they waited out in the hallway. “Read this book and figure out this potion.”  


Professor Faust saw that everyone settled into their groups and instructed them, “Pick up a box at the counter. It has the ingredients you need in them. Remove the mandrake root, dragon’s tooth, sea cucumber, troll sweat, and squid ink. Cut off half an ounce of mandrake root and grind it up with the dragon’s tooth. Approximately half a sea cucumber needs to be soaked in a cup of squid ink then strained into your beakers and put on a high flame. Once it begins to bubble and liquify, you will pour in the ground mandrake root. Finally add in 4 ounces of troll sweat and lower the flame once the liquid becomes clear.”  


Vicky went to the counter to retrieve a box and unpacked it at their desks. She set the scale and the mandrake root on Damien’s desk so he could cut it up. She put the squid ink and sea cucumber on Oz’s desk so they could measure and soak them. Then, she started setting up the heater and beakers. “Everyone got that?”  


“Yep,” Oz answered.  


“Fuck yeah! I get to chop shit up. I call dibs on handling the flame!” Damien said, casually gesturing at the Bunsen burner.  
Miranda held her hand out for a serf to file her nails while another went over to Vicky for instructions.  


“Oh, um, gosh… I didn’t even see you there. You don’t have to do anything,” Vicky said sympathetically.  


Oz asked suspiciously, “Damien, you actually want to do the majority of the work? You sure you won’t overheat it?”  


“Cutting and burning stuff isn’t work, numbnuts.” He cut the requested amount off the mandrake root and put it aside before carving the rest of it into the shape of a dick. He set it on Vicky’s desk and said, “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”  


Vicky stood it on the corner of her desk and wiped her hand on her pants. “Gee, thanks.” It wasn’t the dick she wanted, but it did come from the person it was attached to, so… win?  


“Don’t use it though,” Oz warned her. “It might give you a screaming vagina or something.”  


Vicky blushed, “I wasn’t planning to!”  


Miranda grimaced disgustedly, “Vicky, put your gross little toy away.”  


“It’s—it’s not a toy! He literally carved it just now!” Vicky measured 4 oz of troll sweat and lit the flame for the beaker so Oz could heat up the squid ink.  


Damien stared at her incredulously, “Dude! You totally disrespected the dibs!”  


“But you're still busy,” Vicky said, gesturing toward the dragon tooth in his hand he used to grind up the root. “We're supposed to be doing teamwork. Otherwise, I don't have much of a job, do I?”  


“Fine. It’s not much of a flame anyway, and it’s not like we can actually burn things down,” he said. But he was obviously annoyed.  


“Would you like to mix it in?”  


“Can I mix it... VIOLENTLY?”  


“Um, well, the beakers are fragile—”  


“Always with the violence,” Oz said. “The ladies must love that.”  


“Liam taught me sarcasm. I think that was it,” Miranda said thoughtfully.  


“You don’t know the ladies I know,” Damien answered and mixed it in correctly. “How much more do we have left before this thing is ready for interrogating someone?”  


Vicky added in the troll sweat. “Now we wait for it to turn clear.”  


Damien saw a dropper in the box and palmed it. “How much do you think they pay trolls for their sweat?”  


“Pay them?” Miranda cringed. “For sweat? Eww! If they need the sweat, they should just put them in a hot room and force them to run so they can collect it organically.”  


“Have you ever seen someone try to force a group of trolls to do anything? I hope you like smashed walls and crap on the ceiling!”  


“What did you try to make them do, Damien?” Oz asked.  


“I once tried to organize a bunch of trolls to pull off some Nigerian prince phone scams. They ate the phones, smashed the computers, and shat everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE!”  


“You almost make Tony sound civilized,” Vicky said.  


“Hey, Tony does keep it in the stall,” Oz answered. “I walked into the bathroom last week and Martin was cleaning it out. Do trolls have more than one butthole or something?”  


“Why don’t you ask one and find out? I’m sure they would be more than happy to let you see it in action,” Damien grinned.  


“I’m not interested in buttholes. Well, not troll buttholes, anyway.”  


“Just vampire—” Vicky barely started to tease them before she felt a phobia crawl up her pant leg and bite her. “AHH! WHY!” She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the feeling of anxiety to pass as Optophobia slid back down her leg to join Oz. “Seriously!?”  


“The serum is clear,” Oz said and raised their hand to show Professor Faust. “We’re done!”  


Professor Faust picked up the beaker to inspect it. “Perfectly clear.” He gave it a sniff. “Odorless but it burns the nostrils. Excellent!” He set it back down on Damien’s desk. “Well done, kids. Remember to dispose of it entirely before leaving class today.”  


While the group listened attentively to the professor, Damien snuck the dropper into the beaker and sucked up a sample before hiding it up his sleeve.  


Miranda gestured to her serf, “Go on, then. Do as he said.” The servant disposed of the serum in the sink for them and cleared their desks of the supplies. 

That day at lunch, Vicky sat down at a table with Oz and was surprised when Damien joined them. Ordinarily he established his own table. Maybe his crazy shit mood hadn’t been satisfied yet.  


Damien had rigged a minor delayed kitchen explosion to serve as a distraction. He smirked as he sat down beside Vicky and said, “Hey, noob. I figured I would come and join you two before you invite me over.”  


Vicky smiled, happy for his company. “Looks like Liam is coming over too.”  


Oz felt a little flustered. “Liam? Really?” They looked over their shoulder just as Liam sat down between them and Damien.  


Liam sighed, “It’s hard to take a decent photo of slop. It seems our cafeteria’s standards have fallen further than I could have imagined. My editorial piece in the student newspaper must not have reached the hands of the administration – but of course, why would Principal Giant Spider bother with the needs of the student body when all she cares about is managing the teachers? Do these cooks get pre-packaged barrels of slop now like in privately owned prisons? Is that what this is? Who in their right mind would approve sloppy joes to be on the menu?”  


Before anyone could answer, one of the ovens in the kitchen exploded, setting off the fire alarm in the cafeteria. Unfazed, Liam didn’t look up from his plate of sloppy joes, but Vicky stood up to see how bad it was and whether they needed to evacuate. “I guess somebody agrees with you, Liam,” Vicky said.  


“Good! Just as long as my views remain an underground movement. A niche resistance against the pure visual vomit that is our lunch.”  


“It does kind of look like baby poop,” Oz said.  


Damien took the dropper from his pocket and squirted the serum into Vicky’s drink. “Pfft, that was barely an explosion. Someone probably just left the tinfoil on their baked potato and threw it in the microwave.”  


Just then! The Slayer rappelled down from the ceiling and landed on their table!  


“That was just a tremor in the coming disaster that I’m sure you two are behind!” Aaravi accused.  


“Uh, which two?” Oz asked. “Damien, obviously, and…?”  


“She means me,” Liam answered. “Even though I’ve never done anything to give her cause to attack me, she seems to think Damien and I are in cahoots if we’re ever seen together.”  


“Everyone knows that vampires and demons plan the enslavement or total destruction of the world!” Aaravi retorted.  


“For all the time you spend stalking us, you don’t know jack shit about Liam,” Damien said. “Enslavement is mostly Miri, but I can admit I want to fuck shit up on an epic and radical scale!”  


“And the only thing Liam wants destroyed is the status quo,” Oz added. They were almost sure they saw a tint of pink to Liam’s cheeks as he glanced back at them.  


Vicky drank her water as she watched Martin put out the fire in the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows you did it, Damien. Worth the detention?”  


“Oh, it’ll totally be worth it. You’ll see.”  


“Don’t just pretend I’m not here!” Aaravi demanded, unsheathing the silver sword on her back. “I found this in the dungeon of the flaming crab! Prepare to—”  


Damien snatched the sword from her hand and stood up to throw it back up into the ceiling where she rappelled from. “Fetch!”  


"RUDE!" Aaravi stared at him in shock. “You fiend! It wasn’t even your turn yet!” She started climbing back up the rope. They would get their comeuppance! Another time!  


“Nice throw,” Vicky said. “How did she even get up there? Did she have to climb through the vents?”  


Crazy Martin, the werebear janitor, walked over to the table and slapped a detention slip to Damien’s forehead before looking up at the Slayer as she crawled back up into the ceiling. “And here I thought we had a possum infestation! Damned kids.”  


Unfazed by the detention slip, Damien looked at Vicky, wondering if the serum had taken effect yet. “Hey, Vicky? Can I ask you something?”  


Vicky looked up from her sloppy joes, curiously. “Yes, anything.”  


Oz cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t sound so eager.” Ow. She kicked them under the table.  


“Have you ever picked your nose?” Damien asked with a devilish grin.  


Vicky stared at him for a moment, horrified. “Y…es…?”  


Oz cocked an eyebrow. “Not the kind of question she was expecting, I think.”  


“Honestly, people are trying to take good food pics and you’re talking about boogers?” Liam rolled his eyes. “You’re seriously messing with the energy at the table.”  


Damien grinned, leaning closer against the table. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re afraid of?”  


“Because you might use it against me,” Vicky answered and pursed her lips apprehensively.  


Damien thought about it for a second. “Let me rephrase that. What are you afraid of?”  


Oz’s pet, Pyrophobia, perched itself on their shoulder, intrigued. Oz glared, ready to fling their sloppy joes across the table. “Hey, what the hell are you doing, Damien?”  


“Asking some questions, what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”  


“I’m… afraid of my house being on fire, especially if it happens when I’m sleeping,” Vicky admitted.  


“What?” Damien frowned, disappointed. “That’s a stupid fear. Get a fucking fire alarm like a normal monster. Tell me a different one.”  


“It’s not a stupid fear! What if we suffocate from smoke inhalation before being burned alive! My parents are deep sleepers! I could lose everything!”  


“Put a fire alarm in their room too. A loud one. I can’t solve everything for you.”  


“I didn’t ask you to! I can’t help that I’m afraid of fire! And I would never have told you this! Did you truthie me!?” Vicky asked, remembering their group project.  


“So, you finally caught on?” Damien asked and got up to leave. “Anyway, I’m bored with your lame ass fear. I thought you were a badass!”  


Vicky stood up, pissed off, embarrassed, and betrayed. She picked up her chair and swung it at him, breaking it on his back. “I don’t know why you’re being mean to me! I never teased you when you were afraid of spiders!”  


Damien hunched over, his back stinging and throbbing. “Holy fucking shit!” He turned to look at her, standing up right. “That was awesome. But how the fuck did you know about the spiders!?”  


Vicky lifted up the broken chair in front of her in case she needed to block her face with it. “I’ve been in classes with you for years! And Oz is one of my closest friends! Of course I knew about the spiders!”  


Damien saw her raise the chair up defensively and realized he’d raised his fist out of habit when it came to defending his reputation and instead pointed his finger at Oz. “That’s right, this fucking guy and their dandruff fucked with my head.”  


“I don’t have dandruff. I don’t even have hair,” Oz said. They were made out of shadow stuff. “Anyway, Vicky is the one that told me to call them off. I forgot all about it and would have left them attached to you if she hadn’t reminded me.”  


“You told them to back off?” Damien faltered. He appreciated it, but he was still prideful. “I didn’t need any help with that shit...”  


“From what I remember, you did,” Liam chimed in without looking up from the perfect focus he achieved on the lumps of meat.  


Damien quickly reached over and flipped his lunch tray before leaving the cafeteria, pissed off.  


“I ALMOST HAD IT!” Liam shouted, wiping sloppy joes off his shirt. “Ugh, now I look like a baby pooped on me.”  


Crazy Martin came back and slapped a detention slip in Vicky’s hand. “I really don’t have time for this crap,” he said and walked away.  


Vicky stared at the detention slip. “I got detention…?” There was a first time for everything.  


“You did say you wanted to spend more time with Damien. Still like him?” Oz asked.  


“Unfortunately, yes.”


	9. Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky and Damien are stuck in detention.

Vicky went to detention two days later and sat down in the seat beside Damien’s desk. “I’m surprised you didn’t ditch.”  


“If I ditched, my dads would be flames-shooting-out-of-their-eyes furious with me.”  


“Do… you mean that literally?”  


“Yeah, they would literally shoot flames out of their eyes at me. Plus they would take away all of my murder instruments.” He leaned back in his seat and side eyed her. “I’m surprised you chose to sit next to me.”  


“Well, it’s your fault I’m here,” Vicky said and started doodling a little cartoon version of him in her notebook having his knives taken away and looking sad. “Why did you pick on me, anyway?”  


“I wanted to see if the serum worked,” Damien shrugged. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to confess. “I also wanted to know more about you.”  


“It wasn’t because I’m an easy target? You could have just asked me," Vicky said with a sigh. "At least give me the opportunity to embellish so I don’t sound so ‘lame.’ I mean, I know your house is probably always on fire, so I must have sounded really stupid.”  


“Well, I live in hell. And you’re not lame. I was just giving you shit. But I’m proud that you stood up for yourself,” Damien smirked. “That was a good hit. I’ll admit I didn’t see it coming and not just because you were behind me.”  


“Anything else you want to ask me that doesn’t have to do with picking my nose?” Vicky asked.  


“I’ve been thinking… and I think you’re actually pretty fucking rad. You come up with some creative ways to fuck shit up. So… if you’re not doing anything tonight, I was wondering if… you wanna commit some crimes with me.”  


_Be cool, be cool, be cool._  


“Uh, yeah, totally. I commit crimes… all the time.”  


“I get the feeling you’re fucking lying, but I also know you’ll do it anyway,” Damien grinned. “Tell you what, I’ll let you pick the crime. Think you can handle that?”  


“Really? Like… how about some tax fraud and light treason?”  


Damien knew she wouldn’t say arson, but he was okay with that. He did arson all the time anyway. It was time for something new! “Hell yeah, fuck the government. I’ll pick you up at 8. Make sure you wear black.”  


“I will,” Vicky grinned and showed him the doodle she drew. “This won’t be you. Because we won’t get caught.”  


He thought it was cute but also kind of embarrassing. “Can I have that?”  


“Really?” She hoped he wasn’t planning to eat it to destroy the evidence or something. She tore it out of her notebook, wrote her address and phone number on it, and gave it to him.  


Damien folded it and put it in his pocket before looking at the clock. “No fucking way I can sit here for an hour,” he said, feeling antsy.  


Vicky folded up a piece of paper to play paper-football with him and flicked it at him.  


Damien caught it and flicked it back at her, hard. “Make 20 more of these and let’s unleash hell.”  


Vicky sat back in her chair so it wouldn’t hit her in the face and saw where it landed two desks away. “I don't think that would count as a point.” She started folding more paper-footballs, flicking them over to him as she completed each one.  


Tony the troll showed up late to detention and sat in the seat behind her. He scooted his chair forward to bang into the back of her seat. “Shouldn’t be sitting so far back, Patches.”  


Damien flicked his lighter open and started burning each of the paper triangles before rapidly flicking them at Tony.  


“What the fuck!?” Tony slapped at the first one but then he got up from his seat to escape the onslaught of burning paper triangles flying his way.  


“DAMIEN LAVEY!” Miss Demonslayer shouted, “NO FIRE IN DETENTION! OR YOU’LL COME IN ON THE WEEKEND!”  


Vicky snatched the lighter from him so he wouldn’t get in trouble. “Sorry, Miss Demonslayer! I was practicing for the Flaming-Paper-Football League!”  


“NO. FIRE. IN. DETENTION.”  


Vicky tossed his lighter back to him and whispered, “Did you just defend my honor?”  


“That asshole had it coming. Pro-tip: trolls can’t stand fire because it fucks with their regeneration.”  


Vicky rested her chin in her hand and smiled at him. The fire alarms started blaring in the hallway as the sprinklers went off in the classroom. She and Damien both raised their hands to show it wasn’t them.  


Miss Demonslayer narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Damien and said, “You’re all dismissed... We’re evacuating the building.”  


Damien shrugged at the teacher and said, “I’ll tell my dads you said hi.” He winked at Vicky, “See you at 8.”  


Vicky followed Damien out and saw Oz waiting for her, leaning back against the wall. “Did you pull the fire alarm for me? You’re the freaking best.”  


“Come on,” Oz smirked. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”


	10. The Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky and Damien go on their crime date.

Vicky looked herself over in front of her full-length mirror, turning to see her outfit from every angle. She wore the short black pencil skirt Vera chose for her with a tucked-in short-sleeved white button-up shirt, black oxford heels, and black thigh-high stockings. She debated whether or not the stockings were over-kill but felt like they made her legs even sexier than when they were naked. She also considered the fact Damien had never seen her in stockings before – and trying something new was sexy as hell, right? 

She’d told her parents she was going over to Oz’s to study, but when she heard the familiar sound of Nancy’s engine, she opened her window and climbed down the side of the house from the attic and snuck out across the lawn. She didn’t give Damien a chance to turn off the engine before opening the door and climbing into the passenger seat. 

“You look… nice,” he said, blushing at the sight of her lace trimmed stockings running high up her legs. “But why are you wearing white?” 

“Don’t worry. If we get caught, I’ll pretend I’m the Mayor’s secretary,” she said and glanced down at the bouquet of flowers between their seats. 

Damien followed her eyes. “Oh, right. I picked the most badass flowers I could find in the garden outside my house,” he said and picked up the bouquet to hand it to her. He was a little annoyed at himself for how much he hoped she would like it. 

“Hellebores,” she smiled. “It’s so sweet that you picked them yourself!” 

Damien was a little embarrassed about being called sweet. “Hell-boars? We have those too. You want one? They don’t make very good pets, but they can fuck shit up if you set them loose somewhere.” 

She smelled the flowers, “Close enough. I meant the flowers.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know they were called that,” he said and pulled away from the curb. “So, you snuck out? Where do your parents think you’re going?” 

“NOT committing crimes. With Oz.” 

Damien grinned, “Is this your first time sneaking out at night to commit some crimes? Am I popping your sneaking-out-for-crimes cherry!?” 

She brushed her hair behind her ear and smiled demurely, “Maaaybe…” 

“Whoa, this is a special night. We should commemorate it with matching tattoos or a sick body mod!” 

“I’m in!” She wasn’t sure what she was in for, but how could she turn down the opportunity to get matching tattoos with Damien, to be tied to him for eternity through some badass ink!? Unless, of course, she hated it, in which case she would have to modify her body to remove it. And by modify, I mean she would swap out that part of her body for an equally attractive non-inked part. Ankles were pretty easy to swap. She considered getting the tattoo on her ankle. 

Damien was surprised by her being so ready to jump into this with him. He’d only been half-serious, but he had no problem going through with it. “Alright, it’s on! We are going to fuck the government then we’re getting some shit done to our bodies!” 

She kind of wanted him to do things to her body. But this was a classy date. She was his partner in crime. Wait, how many partners in crime did he have before her!? No, no, she wasn’t going to think about that. She was just going to enjoy the moment. She smelled the black hellebores again and smiled. She was ready to ‘fuck the government’ and possibly end up calling her parents from jail. 

Damien parked across the street from the 5-story office building. “Mayor Grim Reaper’s office is on the third floor. I guess he likes to be in the middle of a political sandwich. Do you know how to scale the side of a building and cut through the glass?” 

“No, but if you’d told me to do some homework before our date, I might have been able to learn,” she said, following him across the street to the side of the building. “I could shatter a window, but that’s not sneaky at all.” 

Damien chuckled, “Your heels are real sneaky.” He unzipped his crime duffel bag and brought out his lock picking tools before kneeling down in front of the door to start picking the lock. “Keep an eye out for their guard dragon.” 

Vicky took off her heels and stuffed them in his duffel bag. “You’re fucking with me.” 

“I’m fucking with you,” he grinned, pushing the door open. “Keep low. We have to make it to the stairs because the elevator is too fucking obvious.” 

Crouching, they both snuck along the service hallway to a door with a glass window that led to the back of the main lobby. With his back pressed against the door, Damien slowly rose to peek through the corner of the window. “One guard,” he whispered, watching a guard patrol the perimeter. 

Vicky stared at the back of his head, trying not to think about how nice his shoulders looked in that black leather jacket and how she wanted to run her hand through his hair. CRIMES. FOCUS ON CRIMES. She looked back over her shoulder and knelt down to crawl past him under the window. 

Damien looked down at her, momentarily distracted by her posterior, then back up to see a light coming from the side. He turned to press his back up against the wall near the door and whispered, “Guaaard ooogre.” The guard looked through the window, shining his light around through it. 

Vicky froze. She knew ogres couldn’t see you if you didn’t move. Or at least, they wouldn’t see you very well. She waited until the light stopped passing around her and made it to the other side before peeking through the window and waving Damien over while the ogre’s back was turned. 

Damien was surprised when she took the lead (and found it totally hot) and quickly followed. He used hand motions showing fingers walking, then a one, and motioned to the left in an attempt to say ‘first left.’ 

Vicky nodded and followed his directions, sneaking ahead of him to take the first left. She peeked down the hallway before turning the corner and checking the ceiling and corners for security cameras. She wondered where the security room was, if there even was one, and hoped an ogre sat behind the monitors. 

Damien caught up to her and heard a doorknob rattling on their left. “Shit,” he whispered with a grimace. There was nowhere to hide! They couldn’t be finished yet! They hadn’t even started fucking shit up! 

Vicky grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the doorway and pushed him back against the wall. “Don’t move,” she whispered. 

He grinned back at her, mostly for how she was taking charge and pushing him around. As far as he was concerned, this was the shittiest hiding spot ever, but he kind of didn’t care with her standing so close. 

An ogre came out into the hallway, so tall his head barely cleared the ceiling. He turned his head and grunted, pretty sure he’d heard something from their direction. Even when his flashlight passes over them, he doesn’t react to seeing them. After he walked passed them, Vicky gestured toward the door, silently questioning whether that was where Damien wanted to go next. 

Damien mouthed, ‘What the fuck just happened!?’ He shook his head and led her down the hall, turned a corner, and pushed the door open for the stairwell going up. 

The ogre grunted and pivoted when he heard the door click shut. 

“Always use the T-Rex defense with ogres,” Vicky advised. She raced him up the steps and cracked the door open to the third floor to peak into the hallway. “I don’t see anything.” 

Damien didn’t mind letting her run up ahead of him. It gave him a nice view. “Both of the ogres are downstairs so we should be in the clear,” he said and took out his flashlight to check the plaques on the doors for Grim Reaper. “Nice thinking back there with the ogre. I didn’t know their vision detects movement.” 

“Maybe that’s why there aren’t any ogre teachers at Spooky High.” Vicky pointed to the name on the door and tried to open it, but it was locked, of course. Why would the mayor leave his door unlocked? She waited while Damien picked the lock and said, “I haven’t exactly thought through how we would mess things up. I was thinking steal some papers, change some numbers. Somehow make it so we lower our taxes.” 

Damien smirked, “You pay taxes?” He opened the door and stashed his lock picking tools in the duffel bag. “I bought this virus from Vera’s sister, but I don’t really know what the fuck to do with it.” He showed her the USB stick labeled fuckshitup.exe. 

“Ha! Gimme,” Vicky said and sat down in the Mayor’s chair. She hacked into the Mayor’s profile so she could log into his desktop. “First, we should take a peek around. For blackmail reasons. Hey, if we get caught, do we die?” 

Damien leaned down and looked over her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s authorized to kill someone out of his own desire. But we will probably go to jail and our parents will be called-- then maybe he’ll be authorized to take our souls and whatever else is left of us.” 

Vicky clicked on a mysterious gibberish folder. “Bet it’s porn.” She opened the folder and found thousands of jpegs of skeletons, mostly in bondage and weirdly kinky poses. “Uh… Is the grim reaper a skeleton under that robe? Or…?” 

“Is that skeleton sitting on a cake?” Damien asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“And that one appears to be riding a pool float shaped like a unicorn donut.” 

“What the fuck-- he has a bunch of pictures of skeleton feet. Can the grim reaper get a literal boner?” 

“But the skeletons in the pictures don’t have boners. They’re just… empty pelvises. They look like they’re enjoying themselves though. But I guess you can’t actually tell without a face. It’s all in the body language.” 

“Maybe they have, like, auras that only they can see, and some skeleton’s auras have bigger aura dicks than the others!” 

“That’s an interesting theory. Do we have any skeleton classmates we can ask?” 

“I think there’s a teacher’s aide we can ask. It won’t be awkward at all.” 

“The mayor is a good guy, isn’t he? I don’t think we should do anything with these,” she said. So much for blackmail. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Shoot,” Damien said, feeling antsy, and looked around the desk for something to fuck with. He rearranged the office supplies. 

“Do you take all your dates on crimes?” 

“Tch, no,” he answered. “I don’t usually put that much thought into the dates I pick up on Tinder. Guess that means you’re taking my crimes date virginity, doesn’t it?” 

Vicky chuckled, “I’m guessing that’s the only virginity you have left.” She backed the chair up from the desk to plug the virus into the USB slot and stood up as it started uploading. 

“I’m sure if we spend more time together, you could figure out some unexplored territory on my body. I’m sure I could find all of yours,” he grinned. 

“What makes you think I have any?” Vicky asked, tiptoeing around the desk to stand by him. 

“You strike me as the kind of person waiting for the right one to fully unlock your sexuality,” he said and put the stapler down so he could turn and face her. “Am I wrong?” 

“No,” she answered honestly, heart racing. Too real. TOO REAL. She wasn’t used to seeing him so calm and serious. His eyes were boring into her. She blurted out, “I have a crush on you.” 

“I could tell,” he said as he leaned down to give her a kiss on the lips. 

Vicky felt electric. Maybe it was her stockings and the friction from the carpet, but she was almost sure there was a little zap when their lips touched. She was elated. She closed her eyes and kissed him back softly as her skin heated up and prickled with goosebumps. 

“Thanks for having Oz call off their pets, by the way,” Damien said, finally at ease enough to admit he needed the help. 

“You didn’t have the same energy. You weren’t acting like yourself,” Vicky said, opening her eyes. 

“Having night terrors all night and then daytime arachnophobia fucking with your brain will do that. I was catching up on sleep during class, but I couldn’t ditch or have any fun because that meant Principal Giant Spider would have pulled me into her office,” he said. 

Vicky gave into her earlier temptation to reach up and tousle his hair and smiled, “So, should we ‘re-organize’ their file cabinets?” 

“Fuck yeah, we should,” Damien grinned. He liked it when she touched him, and he noticed he felt more than just sexual arousal when she did. He walked around the desk and started rifling through the filing cabinets. “They have all kinds of files on boring shit like employee records,” he said. “Oh, shit, here’s a section for unfulfilled promises. We should totally fuck with those!” 

Vicky opened a cabinet and slowly gasped. “Damien… we should totally pass one of these into law. Can we do that? Just, like, forge his signature or something?” She handed him the Terrible Ideas That Absolutely Shouldn’t Be Passed Into Law folder. 

Damien flipped through it. “Legalization of Chimera Toxin?” 

“Seriously, Polly is going to love us.” 

“It’s a good way to thin out the herd too.” 

“Maybe Tony and Garrett will O.D. Okay, now I kind of feel like a bad person,” Vicky said, frowning at herself for making light of overdoses. 

“Stop being so fucking nice. They’re dicks. And if they O.D., they’d be going out on the highest high. Not like you wished for them to have all their bones broken so they’d die of internal bleeding. Which, if they’re on ChimChem, they wouldn’t even feel.” He did his best impression of the mayor’s signature. 

“Look at this. A punishment for dog shit to be lit on fire and flung at the owner’s house when they don’t pick it up.” 

“Fuck yeah! Signed!” 

Vicky put the folder back in the filing cabinet and looked for the outgoing mail to slip the signed bills into. 

“Am I the kind of guy you’re usually into?” Damien asked curiously. 

“Uh... I can't say I've really been into a lot of guys, so... yes? I know you anger easily and get your kicks from murder and arson, so we probably couldn’t be any more different, but I know there’s more to you than that. I know when you don’t skip class or sleep through it, it’s easy for you,” she said, trailing off. “You’re smart and funny and…” 

“My dads would like it if I reigned in the anger and calmed down. But that just makes me even more angry... and frustrated that I’m angry,” he said, realizing after he said it that she was making him vulnerable. “Anyway, Principal Giant Spider says I just need a focus for all these feelings,” he said and knelt down to dig through the files in the lower drawers. 

Vicky knelt down next to him to pretend she was looking at files, but she was more interested in him. “A focus that isn’t beating up goblins or setting the cafeteria on fire? Did she have any suggestions for you? I hope she didn’t say ‘journaling.’” 

“No. More like sculpting, but I just ended up turning the statues into flaming statues and leaving them at the doors of politicians. Whatever happened to freedom of expression?” 

Vicky saw two flashlight beams coming down the hall through the giant glass window walls and whispered, “The guards are coming!” She crawled underneath the desk to turn the power off on the power strip behind the tower. 

Judging by their silhouettes, Damien could tell there must have been a third and fourth guard he didn’t know about – and they weren’t ogres. “Shit!” He closed the drawers on the cabinets and looked over at Vicky, catching a glimpse of the black lace cheeky underwear peeking out from underneath her skirt as she bent over. “We have to hide,” he said and shoved the duffel bag under the desk before taking her hand and dragging her across the room to hide in the closet. He shoved the black robes and golf clubs aside before pulling her back against him and reaching over her head to slide the closet door shut. 

Vicky felt a rush of butterflies in her stomach at the heat of his hand under her breast, holding her still against him. She was pretty sure she also felt a growing erection against her bottom, sending a tingle between her legs. She tried to relax, suddenly aware of how tense every muscle in her body was, and rested her head back against Damien’s shoulder as she arched her back to press her bottom into his crotch. 

Damien felt a blush sweep across his cheeks and thought, _That had to be an accident. Shit. She must have felt how hard my dick is. Fuck._

He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea – that he was only after sex. But when he glanced down at her face in the dark and saw the way she tilted her head back to look up at him with a suppressed smile, he knew it wasn’t an accident. _Is she teasing me? She’s totally fucking teasing me!_

Vicky bit her lip and glanced through the slats of the closet door when the guards tested the entrance to the room and found it unlocked. Putting more weight against his shoulder, she leaned back into him so she could slowly swivel her hips and grind against his crotch. She felt like she was sprouting her own little pair of devil horns because she knew Damien didn’t want to get caught any more than she did. She was torturing him and loving every second of it. 

Damien loved the challenge, and he wasn’t averse to being tortured either – although, Vicky’s idea of torture differed slightly from his own. He knew she was a good girl being bad and that made his skin grow hot. 

This wasn’t a situation Damien had ever found himself in before – what’s the likelihood of him fucking around in the Mayor’s closet twice? – but more importantly, it was who he was doing it with. He’d never dated anyone like Vicky, not even once. She really was full of surprises. For all the years he’d known her, he just thought she was a cute nerd without a backbone. But now? Well, there was a lot more to her than that. And for whatever reason, she was genuinely interested in him. And patient with him. And forgiving. He didn’t think she had any idea what she was getting into with him – and he wanted in equal parts to corrupt her and protect her. He leaned his head down and whispered in his ear, “You’re being naughty.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” she whispered back and held her breath as his hand slowly slid over her stomach to rest on her hip. She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth when she felt something lift the hem of her skirt and press against her inner thigh. 

Damien grinned as he wrapped his tail around her leg and pressed the spade tip between her legs to trace her slit through her panties. He could feel her arousal soaking through the thin lace and coating the end of his tail. He really hadn’t thought she’d want to go this far on their first date, let alone in the Mayor’s office with two guards right outside the door, but he found the risk incredibly hot. With one hand on her waist to hold her steady, he moved his fingers to the hem of her skirt and felt her wiggle her hips. 

Pressing her hand against the wall above the door to stabilize herself, Vicky tried awkwardly to spread her knees and stepped onto his boots to give herself more height. Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers pulled her underwear aside to brush over her sensitive clit. Her legs were already shaking. She realized suddenly what she got herself into and that she didn’t really have the upper hand here. He didn’t have to touch her to make her weak in the knees and now she was at risk of losing her balance and crashing through those flimsy closet doors. But she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted so much more. 

Damien moved his fingers lower, between her wet lips to tease her entrance with his middle finger. He pushed it slowly into her, moving it in and out and swirling it around her entrance before carefully slipping a second digit inside her. He nibbled her ear as he held her firmly against him and fingerfucked her slowly, pressing his palm against her bald mound. He knew she was trying really hard not to make a sound as she struggled to regulate her breathing between long held breaths and shaky drawn out sighs. When he withdrew his fingers from her, he lifted his hand up to her mouth, gently sliding his finger against her bottom lip until she parted her lips. 

Vicky obediently sucked on his fingers, and he tilted his head to kiss her neck, pretty sure she’d never tasted her own sex before. He whispered, “You must taste good by how well you cleaned my fingers off.” He turned her head to meet his lips and slipped his tongue into her mouth to taste her. 

“Damien…” Vicky whispered breathlessly as she reached behind her to grip his shaft through his pants. She fumbled blindly with the zipper until he reached down to help her, freeing his erection from its constraints. She carefully hiked her skirt up and pushed her panties down her thighs as she watched the guards through the slats, walking around the office and flashing their lights around the floor and cabinets. The heat emanating from Damien caused her to perspire as their bare skin met and his sizeable erection pressed firmly between her butt cheeks. She felt like she was caught in a fever dream she didn’t want to wake from. “Fuck me.” 

Damien wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this turned on before. Bending his knees to lower his hips, he held Vicky’s waist to raise her up to her tip toes as she kept one hand on the wall and one on his arm. She could feel the slick head of his cock rub between her lips, coating the tip before he pressed against her entrance. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her firmly as he found some resistance, and lifted his free hand to spit on his fingers and spread it on his dick. He knew saliva wasn’t a great stand in for lube, but they weren’t exactly in his bedroom with access to all his goodies. He gripped her bottom to spread her as he pressed against her tight entrance again, applying pressure until he penetrated her. He felt her tense as her walls stretched to accommodate him, and he was a little worried that his teasing her about being a virgin wasn’t a joke. “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered, reaching between her legs with his tail to massage her clit. 

Vicky closed her eyes, just barely subduing a moan as he subtly moved his hips, slowly thrusting deeper. He filled her halfway and held her hips as he slowly fucked her, resisting the temptation to thrust harder or faster. She felt almost dizzy holding herself back as it was. She wanted to take heaving breaths and moan loudly and buck her hips back against him to encourage more, but her legs were shaking and her arms were heavy. They both knew she was seconds from giving away their position. 

“There’s nobody here,” the guard standing at the door said. “Whoever was on door check just missed one. Let’s go. I need a smoke.” 

Damien sighed with relief when he heard the door click and lock. He drew his hips back and gave her a hard thrust, throwing her off balance so she threw her hands out in front of her and the doors to the closet clattered open. 

Vicky cried out and gasped when she felt him hit the back of her sex, stretching and filling her completely. “Damien!” She pushed back against him as her eyes darted to the glass wall in a panic. 

Damien grinned at the sound of her surprise and how much pleasure was in her voice. He caught her before she fell forward and held her upright before slowly pulling out of her. She teetered, barely able to stand straight as she spun around to look up at him, holding onto his jacket so she wouldn’t fall over. He kissed her hard and roughly pulled her panties down her legs so they fell to floor before grasping her bottom and lifting her up with ease. 

Vicky wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried he to the mayor’s desk and set her on the edge of it. She broke the kiss with a sharp gasp as he slid back into her with more ease than the first time. Holding her by the hip, Damien gripped her by her hair to pull her head back so he could look into her eyes. She cried out with each hard, deep thrust, and dug her nails into his shoulders. He slowed his hips only to shed his jacket, hoping she might draw blood. Having to keep quiet in the closet made him ravenous with lust. He needed to _hear_ her. 

Vicky whimpered and moaned, feeling her strength wane as she gave into the enjoyment of receiving and lay back on the desk. With a sweep of her arm, she cleared the desk and spread her knees wider. Damien leaned down to cover her mouth in another hard kiss as he ripped her shirt open, popping off all the buttons, and revealed the black lace balconette bra underneath. He squeezed her perky breasts in his hands as he grazed his teeth against her neck. He was careful of her threads, but he wanted to leave a mark on her too. 

Vicky moaned and dragged her nails down his back when she felt his pointed teeth dig into her skin. Each long, hard thrust brought her closer to climax, but she remained at the edge. She whispered, still in the throes of passion, “I’m sorry—” 

“What the fuck are you apologizing for?” Damien asked, turning her chin in his hand. He could see she was close. 

“I’m taking too long— and I’m being too loud— and we’re totally going to get caught—” she answered between airy moans. 

Damien chuckled, reaching between her legs to rub her clit. “If they catch us, I’ll just finish you off in jail,” he grinned. “Don’t try to be quiet. I like it when you’re loud.” 

Vicky squeezed his sides with her legs as she gripped his arms in his hands, shaking with an orgasm that rocked her body in waves. Even as she tightened around him, Damien didn’t relent, fucking her through her orgasm until he reached his own. He pulled out of her when he knew he was about to cum and stroked himself to finish on the mayor’s desk. He grinned, satisfied at having jazzed all over the government, and zipped up his pants before leaning down to give Vicky another kiss – softer this time. 

Vicky smiled, still catching her breath, and kissed him as she sat up shakily to fix her skirt. “We should go,” she whispered. 

Damien helped her to her feet and picked up his jacket. “See any flashlights coming?” 

Vicky tiptoed over to the glass wall and tried to see down the hallway. “I don’t see anyone coming.” She turned back around to see him wearing his jacket again with the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. She opened the door and snuck back out the way they came in. Once they made it back to the car and she sat in the passenger seat, she looked at him, embarrassed as she fingered the hem of her skirt. “I forgot my underwear.” 

Damien grinned and took her panties out from his pocket. “We can’t both be leaving dna evidence at the scene of the crime.” 

Vicky breathed a sigh of relief and immediately realized what a pain in the ass they would be to put back on. Images of her awkwardly contorting in the seat next to him, trying to get her panties on under the pencil skirt without pushing the pencil skirt all the way up her waist – it wasn’t sexy and it would be super stupid looking. She decided to do the sexy thing and just let him keep them. “That’s all I was worried about,” she lied. It had nothing to do with secretions dripping down her inner thighs. 

Damien could practically see the wheels turning in her head and smirked, tossing them in the seat behind him. A souvenir. Cool. 

“Can we go to the park?” Vicky asked as he started driving back in the direction of her house. “I don’t really want to go home yet.” 

“The night is still young,” he said and turned left at the light instead of going straight. It was only midnight. He parked in the empty lot and walked with her toward the playground. He’d gone to this park with Scott before to gaze at the stars, so he knew it was usually empty – or there were drug deals going down. “So… tonight...” Damien started, picking her up by her waist to set her on the first swing before sitting down on the one next to her. “I, uh, really didn’t plan on us fucking. So, don’t think that was my goal. Not that I’m complaining,” Damien said and looked over at her to see her smiling sweetly back at him. What the fuck. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was making him a little bit uncomfortable. He blurted out, “Why the hell am I explaining myself?” He was feeling weirdly vulnerable. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable. And he didn’t really trust people enough to be vulnerable around them. He stood up from his swing and jumped up to grab the top bar and pulled himself up to sit on top of it. 

Vicky furrowed her brow, confused. The way their date went was certainly new for her, but she wasn’t sure what it was usually like for him. “What do you mean?” she asked, leaning back in her swing to look up at him. “You don’t usually do it on a first date?” 

“No, that’s not—” he answered, annoyed. “I’m very clear if the goal of a date is to fuck. Which it usually is. But with you, I just wanted to have fun causing mayhem…” 

Vicky stood up on the swing, holding the chains, and gauged the distance to the top bar. She knew she couldn’t jump that high. She wanted to climb up after him to close the distance and touch him again. She gripped one of the swing’s chains in both hands to try to climb up like a rope in gym class, but her stockings made it impossible to grip the chain with her feet, and she didn’t have the upper body strength to pull herself high enough to grab the bar. With a grunt, she gave up trying to sit next to him and stood on the swing instead. 

Damien thought it was cute how hard she tried to climb the chain and even cuter how forlornly she sulked when she failed. “Something’s been bothering me,” he admitted. 

“What?” Vicky asked, looking up at him, wondering if he would come down after telling her. 

“Why the hell did you set yourself on fire if you’re fucking afraid of fire?” 

Vicky felt her heartrate pick up and hesitated. She knew she should just come clean. Maybe being vulnerable and honest with him would make him comfortable enough to be the same with her. “I wanted you to notice me.” 

Damien hopped down from the top of the swing set and stood in front of her, holding onto the chains. “You lit yourself on fire to impress me?” 

“Well, yeah,” Vicky shrugged, averting her eyes from his. “I wasn’t even sure if you knew my name. And I’d never really had the guts to talk to you before then.” 

“So you went all fucking in. I like it,” Damien smirked. “And I know I ditch a lot, but I’ve had enough classes with you over the years to know your name. And to know you’re a fucking nerd.” 

Vicky smiled, meeting his gaze again, and said, “I’m pretty sure my mom would have grounded me and talked my ear off about nobody being worth lighting yourself on fire for, but—” 

“Well, she’s right, but it was pretty fucking badass.” 

“Yeah!” Vicky boasted proudly, “It was!” 

“Next time you challenge someone to a fight to try to impress them though, you should spend less time running away.” 

“Well, that was my foot-in-mouth syndrome kicking me in the teeth. I was talking about the theatre.” 

“Wait,” Damien faltered, “so you didn’t actually want to fight me?” 

Vicky was afraid he was disappointed by the look on his face. He really hadn’t put it together. And now he probably thought she wasn’t nearly as badass as she let on… Now he knew she really was just a coward running in circles, lying to impress him. She squeezed the chains of the swing tightly to try to brace herself, feeling like she could collapse from the weight of his stare. 

“I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was. I know I’m not as bold as you are… but you helped me face my fears,” she said. Even if she hadn’t been brave before and it took all of her courage just to talk to him, she really did feel like he’d helped her grow. Even if he was a terrible influence, she felt like she was a better version of herself since spending time with him. “And I did have fun, even if I was scared. You make me more confident. I think that’s one of the things that I admire so much about you.” She felt embarrassed admitting all this, and she was afraid he would think she was boring and lame and trying way too hard. She could feel her skin grow hot and her chest get heavy with apprehension and emotion. “I really, really like you.” 

Damien was quiet because he could tell it was hard for her to admit all that, and he could see that she was scared, but he was drawn to her vulnerability, seeing the strength in her openness. He moved his hands from the swing to her waist and lifted her up to set her feet on the ground and, holding the back of her head, tilted her chin so he could kiss her. 

“I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not usually that bold. But you’re the one that came up with the idea to break into Mayor Grim Reaper’s office. And to fuck in his closet with the guards within earshot. And it takes serious metaphorical balls to admit all that,” Damien said and ran a hand through his hair. “So, fuck it, I’ll just say it. I care what you think about me. I don’t usually give a shit what people think about me. But I really fucking like you too.” 

Vicky felt relieved and elated and overwhelmed all at once. She slipped her arms inside his jacket to hug him tightly and tried to suck the tears back into her eyes, but she was so happy, she couldn’t’ stop them from falling. 

Damien was pretty sure he just heard her sniffle. “Are you—oh, hell, tell me you’re not crying.” 

“I can’t help it! Shut up! I was really fucking scared, okay?” she sobbed. 

Damien hugged her, feeling protective – and he wasn’t even sure what against. Himself? Emotions? What the fuck. “Well, now we’ve both laid it all out there, so… do you want to have a second date with me?” 

Vicky giggled and hiccoughed as she wiped her cheeks and got her shit together. “Yeah. Maybe next time we can rob a bank.” 

Damien grinned, “Don’t say that too loud. Vera might hear us and third wheel our date.” 

“Not if we just break into the vault to fuck on top of a pile of money.” 

“Honestly not sure that would deter her,” Damien chuckled. “I must be the equivalent of super meth when it comes to you feeling bold. Good to know you want more of me because I want more of you,” he said, looking down to take in the view of her open shirt. Her post-sex disheveled look was pretty hot. 

Vicky timidly reached up to trace her fingers over his long horn. Why did she feel all flustery again? “Did I really leave a bite mark?” she asked. 

Damien grinned and adjusted her hand to touch it, “Fuck yes, you did. That was pretty hot. My dads were kind of pissed about it because they thought I was disfiguring my ‘good horn.’” 

Vicky pulled him down by the horn to kiss it and said, “Sorry, not sorry.” 

“Kiss my lips and I’ll fully accept your nonpology.” 

Vicky giggled and kissed his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling giddy. “I don’t think we’ll have time for the body mods tonight,” she said. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.” 

“That can be our third date,” he shrugged. He certainly wouldn’t call what he was feeling ‘disappointed.’ “Tomorrow’s game night is going to be a fucking riot. You know us being a thing is going to make them all lose their shit, right?” 

“You know, I... actually didn't think you'd want to tell anybody,” she said, surprised. She didn’t even think he’d want to be exclusive. 

“Keep you a secret? Fuck that. If I’m with someone, I’m owning that shit.” 

“Does that mean… you'll be off Tinder? You’ll just be with… me?” Vicky asked, hopeful. 

“I’ll get off Tinder, but I should warn you, I have a high sex drive.” 

Vicky couldn’t help the big stupid smile on her face. “You're not going to be like those sex-addicts in the movies who have to do more and more depraved shit to get off though, right? Like an ass-to-mouth bukkake orgies while suspended from hooks in the ceiling? I saw a documentary...” 

“A documentary on the fucking Tijuana Pablo Special?! No, I don’t need all kinds of depraved acts to stay interested. But I can think of a few things you might like,” he grinned. He knew she would like being zapped, for one. 

Vicky looked forward to him ‘fully unlocking her sexuality’ as he so aptly put it before. “I should probably get home before my parents wake up.” 

“I’m probably already in trouble,” Damien said and walked her back to the car. He drove her home and looked at the house. “You have a plan to break back in?” 

“I left the back door unlocked,” she answered and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Good night, Damien.” 

“See you tomorrow, Stitches.”


End file.
